


Special Assignment

by lesshoney



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesshoney/pseuds/lesshoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: shamelessly AU, MPREG. We trust the reader to know whether that's their cup of tea. And if you'll grant us this premise, outlandish as it is, we'll do our best to tell you a good story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

     If there was anything Nicholas Angel hated, it was being late and disappointing Danny, and right now, he was on the verge of doing both.

     It was Nicholas and Danny’s third anniversary. With his past relationships, Nicholas had given little thought to anniversaries (and birthdays and parties and dads’ funerals…), but what he had with Danny was a million times more special than all his previous relationships combined. Nicholas was still surprised he had gone three years without driving Danny away, and figured that was worth celebrating in itself. But another typical day of dealing with Sandford’s most notorious pranksters, juvenile delinquents, and petty thieves had left both Nicholas and Danny buried up to their elbows in paperwork. Nicholas had graciously taken on Danny’s portion to allow his partner to leave work at five to prepare “the surprise.” Nicholas had no idea what it was, but given their history, it was bound to be something sweet and romantic, a trait of Danny’s Nicholas found he enjoyed more than he’d expected. Nicholas was still learning to get in touch with his romantic side, but he knew his present of a _Die Hard_ jumper and the _Point Break_ Steelbook Blu-ray would make up for his romantic ineptitude.

     None of that would matter if he didn’t finish his paperwork and get changed. Danny had been very mysterious in his planning, only telling Nicholas to trust him, which Nicholas did wholeheartedly. As the clock ticked nearer to 6, for once in his life, Nicholas rushed through his work. He was fairly sure he spelled several names wrong and might have put the cow down as an accomplice, but he finished with five minutes to change and try to look semi-decent for Danny.

     Doris gave Nicholas a once-over when he emerged from the locker room a few minutes later. Danny had given him firm instructions not to wear anything too fancy, which Nicholas was secretly relieved about as he hated wearing anything close to formal wear. Instead Nicholas had opted for pair of khakis and a light blue button up shirt; he knew Danny liked it when Nicholas wore things that couldn’t be easily mistaken for police issue clothing.

     “Lookin’ good, Chief,” Doris told him, winking. “Danny’s gonna have to hold himself back.”

     “Thank you, Doris,” Nicholas replied, trying not to sound exasperated. He wasn’t used to having his relationship so intertwined with his work life. No one on the team minded when he and Danny started dating, but he was still getting used to the occasional comments from his officers about his personal life. He knew, for all the ribbing they gave him and Danny, they meant well, and were truly happy for the pair. “Is Danny here yet?”

     Before Doris could reply, the door to the station opened and the man in question walked in, looking very proud of himself. When he caught sight of Nicholas, his face broke into a grin, and Nicholas had to refrain from pulling Danny in for a passionate kiss (at least until they got away from Doris, who was watching the two with great interest, her own paperwork sitting forgotten by her computer).

     “Hey, Nicky,” Danny said, planting a quick kiss on Nicholas’ lips before taking hold of his hand. “Ready to go?”

     Nicholas couldn’t help but grin back; Danny just had one of those smiles that was infectious, which was one of the many reasons Nicholas loved him.

     “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” he said softly, letting Danny eagerly tug him towards the door. He barely heard Doris’ farewell as the door shut behind them.

     The summer evening air was warm and breezy; not so hot that Nicholas worried about sweating through his shirt, not so cold that he wanted to go home to grab a sweater; the fewer layers between him and Danny that night, the better. He just hoped Danny had thought to grab the condoms before leaving the house, because it had completely slipped his mind that morning.

     As soon as they were by their car in the safety of the mostly-dark car park, Nicholas put down his gift bag and pulled Danny towards him

     “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he whispered, before pulling Danny in for a proper snog. Danny gasped, allowing Nicholas to slip his tongue in and taste him.

     Danny’s surprise quickly turned to desire; his fingers gripped onto Nicholas’ hips and he moaned into Nicholas’ mouth before sucking his lower lip. When Nicholas turned his attention to Danny’s neck, one hand still tangled in Danny’s hair, the other making its way towards his arse, Danny had to muster up all his resistance and pull back. Nicholas let out a frankly adorable whine of protest and Danny felt himself throb, but he ordered his hormones to stand down for now.

     “Nicky, we’ve got plans, remember?” he whispered, rubbing Nicholas’ shoulders soothingly and trying not to be turned on anymore than he already was by the desire in Nicholas’ eyes. “’Sides, you don’t want to get off in the car park, yeah? Not real romantic.”

     Nicholas laughed and nodded, picking his bag up and heading to his side of the car.

     “Knowing our luck, the Andes would pull in right when it was getting good,” Nicholas remarked, opening the door and sliding into the passenger’s seat beside Danny. He reached over and squeezed Danny’s knee. “I want you all to myself.”

     “You’ll get that and more,” Danny replied, placing his own hand over Nicholas’ and squeezing back. Then he started up the car and pulled out onto the road.

     A few minutes later, Danny took a right and headed for a hilly, wooded area. Nicholas had by this point become familiar with most of Sandford, but he had rarely ventured into the more rural parts of the area. One look at the tree roots and rocks sticking out of the ground assured Nicholas this would be an easy place for one to twist an ankle or get more seriously injured. But the excited look on his partner’s face eased his worries and he told himself to let Danny take control.

     A few more uphill turns, and suddenly they were at a clearing overlooking the village. The ground here was noticeably less treacherous, covered in nice soft layer of grass with nary a rock or root in sight. Though a moment later, Nicholas’ attention was diverted from the ground to line of yellow tape stretched over most of the clearing, tied securely at both ends to nearby trees.

     “Danny, did you cordon off this area with police tape?” he asked, trying not to sound miffed.

     “Yeah, just in case; had to keep teens and whatnot from setting up shop here,” Danny replied. Nicholas noted that, for his part, Danny did sound sheepish, and he decided the ends, at least tonight, justified the means, so he let the matter drop. Nothing said “mood killer” like a poorly-timed lecture on the proper use of police equipment.

     “What is this place?” Nicholas asked, changing the subject for Danny’s sake. His partner grinned and turned off the car.

     “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

     They got out of the car, and Danny quickly removed the police tape while his partner inspected the area. Nicholas could see a large, fluffy blanket spread out of the ground, and he felt his heart squeeze. Before he could say anything, Danny took his hand and led him to the edge of the clearing, giving him the full unobstructed view of the village down below. Sandford was beautiful and deceptively peaceful, all lit up under the setting sun, which had turned the sky a gorgeous mix of orange, pink, purple, and red. Nicholas felt Danny’s arms reach around his waist and his chin rest on Nicholas’ shoulder. Nicholas leaned back comfortably into Danny’s solid frame.

     “It’s lovely, Danny,” Nicholas whispered, turning his head so he could rest his forehead against the side of Danny’s head. 

     “I always wanted to take you here,” Danny told him. “But it had to be for something special. Then things kept getting in the way. But we’re finally here.” He kissed the back of Nicholas’ neck and squeezed him tightly.

     “It’s perfect, Danny, thank you,” Nicholas said softly.

     “That’s not all, a’course,” Danny revealed, pulling away reluctantly and heading back to the car. “We’re gonna have a picnic!” He popped open the trunk and pulled out a basket brimming with food.

     Nicholas grinned at Danny’s enthusiasm and joined him on the blanket; it was so thick and fluffy he couldn’t even feel the ground underneath. Danny plopped down next to him and set the picnic basket between them.

     “Did you make all this yourself?” Nicholas asked as Danny started laying out the basket’s treasures on the blanket. There were sandwiches, quiche, salad, a plate of cut veggies and fruits, a small cake, a plate of cookies, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. Danny smiled at Nicholas.

     “Most of it,” he admitted, blushing. Nicholas had found that, when not living the lifestyle of a slovenly bachelor, Danny could be a surprisingly good cook. He had taken Nicholas’ vegetarianism as a challenge, and had come up with some delicious meat-free alternatives to his best dishes. Nicholas put his hand on Danny’s neck and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

     “You’re amazing,” he told Danny. Danny blushed even harder.

     “I learn from the best.”

     The next hour was spent wining, dining, and watching as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The dinner was one of the best Nicholas had ever tasted, though whether that was because of the food or the company, he couldn’t say. The wine Danny had brought was impressively decent by Sandford standards, and Nicholas found himself asking for a refill as they finished off the cake. Nicholas typically didn’t go in for sweets, but Danny had opened up his repertoire of acceptable foods. And, Nicholas admitted, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye, he did enjoy helping Danny clean up by licking frosting off his fingers and lips.

     As Danny finished putting away the remnants of their picnic back in the basket, Nicholas set his glass of wine on the ground beside him. Once Danny sat back down, Nicholas crawled into his lap, facing him and taking his face in his hands. Danny smiled softly and his hands travelled up Nicholas’ sides, subtly untucking his shirt as they went. Nicholas bent down and kissed Danny, hard, deep, and with far more lust than he would normally display in public. He pushed his tongue into Danny’s mouth, who did the same to Nicholas, while his hands succeeded in removing Nicholas’ shirt from his trousers. While Danny’s hands roamed freely over Nicholas’ heated skin, Nicholas turned his attention to Danny’s neck, picking up where he’d left off in the car park, kissing and nipping and sucking at the skin above his collar.

     Danny’s desire to see Nicholas’ skin in the moonlight forced him to push Nicholas back just so he could pull his lover’s shirt up over his head. Nicholas skin was as flawless and gorgeous as ever, the moon glinting off his medallion and giving him an untamed, wild beauty.

     “Fuck, Nic’las, I fuckin’ love you,” Danny whispered, grabbing Nicholas by his hips and kissing his chest, sucking and licking at each nipple, enjoying the moans this elicited from his lover. Nicholas leaned his head back, letting out a breathy “Love you too” as Danny’s tongue drove him to distraction. Danny’s breath hitched as Nicholas’ hips started grinding into Danny’s at an awkward angle, and he pulled back, panting. Nicholas stared at Danny with dark eyes, then reached between them and rubbed the heel of his hand over the bulge in Danny’s trousers.

     “So why don’t you show me how much you love me?” Nicholas panted, enjoying the loud moan Danny released at the touch of Nicholas’ hand. He almost didn’t notice Nicholas deftly unbuckling his belt, then he snapped back to reality.

     “Wot, here? In…public?” Danny asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. He had a thing for having sex in public; the thrill of getting caught just made the whole thing that much more exciting, especially if he was doing it with Nicholas, who never so much as jaywalked if he could help it. Except for a blowjob in the locker room on Danny’s birthday, Nicholas was very much against this particular fixation of Danny’s. But not tonight.

     Nicholas slowly smiled at Danny, pulling him in for a soft kiss as his other hand undid Danny’s trousers, allowing him to slip his hand inside and grip Danny through his pants. Danny groaned into Nicholas’ mouth, a sensation which shot straight to his crotch, making him fully hard.

     “Yes, Danny,” Nicholas said, in between placing kisses on his jaw and chin and neck. “I want you. I want you to fuck me right here, on this blanket, in front of the whole fucking village.”

     Danny felt like a million fireworks had gone off his head. This was the sort of thing that happened in his dreams, the type of dreams that woke him up in the middle of the night, hard and sweaty and tempted to wake up Nicholas for some 3am sex. But it was really happening, and it was far hotter than he had ever imagined.

     “…k,” he managed to get out. “I…in the basket…there’s…stuff…” Danny was having a hard time forming thoughts and sentences as Nicholas’ hand kept going to work on him. If he wasn’t careful, Danny would be finished before they’d even started.

     “Condoms?” Nicholas whispered in his ear, somehow making the word seem sexy. But instead, it made Danny freeze. Nicholas noticed the change in his partner and pulled back, eyes searching Danny’s face for an answer.

     “…fuck,” Danny answered meekly. “I…I meant to grab some…shit, I’m sorry Nicky, I’ll go-”

     “No, no, Danny, don’t,” Nicholas replied, his mind working quickly to analyze the situation. He was half-undressed and had his hand down Danny’s trousers; the last thing he wanted to do was stop so Danny could run to the store. Besides, who knew how long they had this spot to themselves? The later it got, the greater the likelihood some randy teenagers looking for a good time would pull up and catch the pair going at it. Both had been tested so they knew they were clean, and it was hardly the first time they’d had sex without protection, so really, what was the chance something would happen this time? The heart-broken look on Danny’s face sealed it for Nicholas; he had gone to so much trouble giving them the perfect anniversary, he wasn’t going to let a little thing like this ruin the night.

     “Danny, babe, it’s alright,” he whispered, cupping Danny’s face with his free hand. “I don’t care. I said I want you and I mean it. Right here, right now.” He smiled as sweetly as he could, trying to ease Danny’s worry.

     “You – you sure, Nicky?” Danny asked, his hands still unmoving at Nicholas’ sides.

     “Yes,” Nicholas replied, rubbing the back of Danny’s neck and unabashedly grinding his hips into Danny’s again. “Fuck me.”

     That tone of voice was alchemical; it turned sweet, bumbling Danny into _Sergeant Butterman_ , Sanford’s finest. His grip on Nicholas got surer, he laid back and pulled Nicholas with him. Danny rolled them over and looked down at Nicholas, with his bare shoulders against the blanket. Nicholas blinked owlishly as the wine settled in his head. That slightly dazed look, the furrow of his brow, the little frown, it always drove Danny crazy: it made him wonder how somebody so beautiful and clever and… everything... was all _his_. 

     Nicholas pulled his head down for a kiss, a gentle touch of his lips against Danny’s. A promise, like he could read Danny’s mind: _All yours_. 

     “Need those trousers off,” Danny said. (Tenderness only lasted so long when you were as hard as he was.) He kissed that freckle on Nicholas’s jawline, nosed down to bite at the one on his neck. He helped Nicholas with the zip on his khakis and dragged them down. He leaned over to kiss the bows of Nicholas’s hipbones and the hollow of his stomach, followed the little trail of hair down his belly to the band of his pants. He slipped both of his hands in the band and slid those down too, and Nicholas felt the warm wine in his brain and the cool air on his skin. 

     Danny’s hand nestled between Nicholas’s legs. He cupped Nicholas with his big hand, rubbed him up and down, and grinned. 

     Nicholas sat up to kick off his shoes and get the khakis free. He hooked off his socks in the same motion, and then he really was completely naked, wearing nothing but his St. Michael medallion and the moonlight and the red brands of Danny’s bites. 

     Danny’s eyes swept over him. He licked his lips. “Hell, Nic’las.”

     Nicholas smiled. “Happy anniversary.” Then, because without his clothes it was a little colder than he’d thought, he grabbed Danny by the collar and yanked him closer. “I think I asked you to _fuck_ me, Sergeant.” 

     Danny had the bottle ready. He opened the cap and squeezed some onto his fingers. Nicholas lay back and Danny stretched out beside him, face to face, close enough to keep him warm.

     Nicholas hooked a knee over Danny and let Danny play with him again. Danny brushed his hip with the back of his hand and reached through Nicholas’s legs to start to stretch him. They traded kisses while Danny used his free hand to stroke Nicholas’s serious face, his neck, his temples, gentle touches to relax Nicholas while he kept his fingers inside. Between the kisses Nicholas started unbuttoning Danny’s collar. He wanted a little more of his partner, too. He opened the rest of the buttons and pushed the dark green shirt back off Danny’s shoulders. 

     In the dark, Danny’s scars were almost invisible. They had shaved him in the hospital, somewhere in the endless bouts of surgery. His chest hair had come back thicker and darker, but there were hairless creases and pale white lines, like cracks in a pavement, streaked stains on a carpet. They went down his stomach almost to his navel. Nicholas touched Danny’s chest, let his palm linger over Danny’s beating heart for a second. 

     Danny didn’t mind his scars. He minded when Nicholas looked at them and got quiet. And this was a night to celebrate; he didn’t need Nicholas to start _thinking_. Especially not about this. “Hey.”

     Nicholas looked up. 

     “Love you.”

     That seemed to shake him out of it. Nicholas kissed him again. He gave Danny’s lip a bite. “I’m ready.” 

     Danny sat up. He got himself out of his trousers and suddenly Nicholas was grabbing the lube out of his hand. 

     “Let me,” he said. 

     Danny leaned himself back on his elbows. Nicholas grabbed him and worked him slowly, spreading the lubricant with a sure hand. He spread it down and back up the shaft with a steady rhythm, coating him from his balls to the head, back down and up again. He squeezed Danny’s sack, gave it a nice scratching rub, and grinned when Danny growled his name in warning. 

     “I want to see you,” Danny said. 

     Nicholas climbed on top. Danny watched him sink down, the flex and tighten of his lean thighs, the lovely look of concentration on his face. 

     Nicholas huffed a little when he got Danny in. He grabbed his partner’s heavy shoulders while he adjusted, breathing in and out to fight off that fluttering, urgent feeling. Not quite pain, but not pleasure, either, just too much, too quick. 

     “I’m gonna move,” Danny said.

     Nicholas nodded.

     Danny sat up. Nicholas winced and Danny smiled sympathetically. Silly git. Nicholas always moved too _fast_.

     “Relax, relax, relax,” Danny whispered, right at his ear. He traced up Nicholas’s spine with his hands and rubbed his tense shoulders. With Nicholas flush against his chest, Danny wrapped his arms around Nicholas’s chilly back and waited with him. He snaked his hand in between them, wrapped his finger and thumb around Nicholas and caressed him hard again. Nicholas relaxed and he sank another inch, got Danny a little deeper. 

     Suddenly they heard voices in the dark, young ones, a group of them. The pale beams of two electric torches winked to life in the trees. Nicholas froze. “Danny.”

     “Shh,” Danny said. His eyes sparkled. Nicholas could feel just how exciting he thought this was.

     Really, Nicholas couldn’t have planned it better if he had tried. He peeked over Danny’s shoulder at the torches in the woods. (He hoped they didn’t come this way; it would almost certainly ruin the mood, having to book himself and Danny on public indecency.) Danny kissed him and rocked him gently on his lap, and Nicholas couldn’t help himself, he made a desperate little noise. 

     Nicholas swatted him on the shoulder. Danny giggled. They held each other until the voices faded and the lights disappeared in the trees. 

     Nicholas laughed in relief, and Danny grinned again. 

     “Just some kids,” Danny said, and kissed Nicholas to bring him back to the moment. He slid his tongue into Nicholas’s mouth and swiped at Nicholas’s, an aggressive little sally that made Nicholas squirm and clench. 

     “Look at that,” Danny said, and Nicholas turned his head. 

     Sanford was lit up below, a honeycomb of orange and white lights against the black fields. The stars were bright and warm - they always looked too bright to Nicholas, like something from a painting (he still had a city boy’s aesthetics). The view was immense, like the sky had fallen to earth, like they were very, very small, and Nicholas turned away. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Danny, Danny biting at his shoulder and Danny hard inside him. He ground down and Danny groaned his name. 

     He started to sway his hips, side to side, warming up to a few thrusts. He made eye contact with Danny as he moved; he could feel Danny’s pulse quicken as he rocked on him and squeezed. It was a slow dance, with one of Danny’s hands on his hip and the other flat on the ground to keep them steady. He put his lips against Danny’s and toyed with Danny’s nipples in that soft fur.

     He picked up his pace. Their kisses got clumsy, lips, chin, jaw, finally Nicholas pulled away to have another look; Danny looked half-stoned, gazing up at him in something like wonder. 

     “Come on, partner.” 

     Danny pulled his knees up, bringing Nicholas closer, changing the angle, and Nicholas forced himself down on Danny’s slicked-up shaft. Every inch of it rubbed right over the patch of nerves that was already tingling. He could hear how close Danny was in the hitch of his breathing, in the sounds he was making as Nicholas moved on him. Nicholas clenched tight and rolled him again, hungrily - Nicholas lunged to kiss him, got his fingers in Danny’s dark hair for purchase. His brain switched off. Everything felt so right, the way Danny was in him, massaging him inside with every rock of his hips. His legs were shaking from the strain, the intensity, the building pressure in the pit of his stomach and the twitching nerves radiating out to his curling toes and fingertips. 

     Danny couldn’t hold out any more; he grabbed Nicholas to help guide him, following him through the motions. He bucked up under Nicholas as he came and that was the point of no return, Nicholas felt the unstoppable rush and the hot waves and the fall, plunging, cold air and a thrash of limbs and the stars went supernova.

     Danny caught him as he floated back to earth, or maybe Danny had been holding him the whole time. Nicholas came back to himself slowly. His head was nice and fuzzy and he felt gloriously empty, wrung out. He’d made a mess between them. 

     “Happy anniversary,” he said again, dumbly.

     Danny laughed. He liked this Nicholas, starry-eyed and weak as a kitten and not a whole thought left in his brain. “You too.” 

     Danny put his chin on Nicholas’s head and looked at Sanford glowing below. He decided he would _probably_ remember tonight for the rest of his life.

     (He was right.)


	2. Chapter 2

     A month and a half later, Danny was still having dreams about that night. Wonderful, vivid dreams made all the more wonderful because they had actually happened. Danny’s favourite part was when he awoke from his dreams to find Nicholas lying awake beside him, ready to re-enact them with Danny.

     Of course that only happened on their days off. Usually when Danny woke up on work days, Nicholas was already out of bed, dressed, and downstairs either making them breakfast or lacing up his trainers to go for his run. But this morning, Danny did not wake up to the smell of eggs and toast, nor to the sound of the front door slamming shut. Nicholas was awake, his side of the bed was empty, but his clothes, always planned and laid out the night before, remained untouched on their hangers.

     Piecing the clues together, Danny rolled out of bed and forced his groggy, protesting body to wake up. Forgoing his usual morning routine of a shower and shave, Danny threw on his robe and headed downstairs to find Nicholas.

     “Nicky?” Danny called out periodically. The house was relatively small, which meant Danny could often find Nicholas just by listening for him, unless Nicholas didn’t want to be found or, a more chilling thought, was unable to make any noise. “Nicholas, you here?”

     Danny’s overactive imagination started playing out various scenarios explaining Nicholas’ disappearance: a heart attack in the front hall, a fall in the shower, a kidnapping by one of Nicholas’ many enemies from his London days. Danny’s common sense fought valiantly with his imagination as he searched for Nicholas. He knew Nicholas had been feeling tired the past few days, but that was to be expected; he was the Chief of Police and had a lot of responsibilities to fulfill.

     The sound of the toilet flushing in the downstairs bathroom had never made Danny so relieved. Not wanting to seem like an overprotective boyfriend, Danny busied himself in the kitchen, pulling out bread to make some toast. But after a few minutes when Nicholas had not emerged from the bathroom, Danny decided to get to the bottom of matters. He marched down the hall and knocked on the bathroom door.

     “Nicky, you okay in there?” Danny asked, pushing the door open a crack. What he saw made him throw the door open and rush in. Nicholas was hunched over the toilet, his plain white top soaked with sweat, his skin far paler than usual. He barely acknowledged Danny when the younger man tentatively touched him on the shoulder.

     “Nicholas, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

     Nicholas immediately looked up, and it was if a switch had been flipped. His face hardened into one of focused determination and alertness as he rather shakily got to his feet, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the counter. He wiped his hand across his brow, which was glistening with sweat, then nodded.

     “Y-yeah, Danny, ‘m fine,” he said hoarsely. Danny raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “No, really I-I’m…fine. I just h-had a bad bit of h-hummus last night, that’s all.”

     “But you –” Danny gestured to the toilet, and then to Nicholas’ wet shirt. Nicholas looked down and frowned.

     “Danny, seriously, I’m fine,” he insisted. “Can’t let a little thing like food poisoning keep me down.”

     As Nicholas rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth, Danny tried to tell his nerves to calm down and his suspicions to jog on. Nicholas was a health nut when it came to eating and exercising, but he had a bad habit of ignoring signs of illness in favour of the job. The last time Nicholas had been sick with the flu, Danny practically had to tie Nicholas to the bed to keep him from going into work. It was only when Danny reminded him that a sick Nicholas could infect the rest of Sandford’s finest that the Chief agreed to stay at home.

     “Hey, lemme feel your head,” Danny said when Nicholas was finished. Nicholas was in the process of removing his sweat-soaked shirt, having already blocked out the early morning nausea from his mind. He paused before turning saying anything; Danny would’ve bet Nicholas was trying to convince his body to behave itself before Danny checked him.

     “Fine, Danny, go ahead,” he sighed, tossing his shirt into the laundry hamper. He put his hands on hips, a vague look of irritation on his face. “But if there’s no fever, I’m going into work.”

     Danny nodded, thankful that Nicholas hadn’t dragged this out more than he usually did. He placed his hand on Nicholas’ forehead, prepared for a drastic change in temperature. But his forehead, though slightly sticky from sweat, was normal. Not quite convinced, Danny tried his other hand, then felt Nicholas’ neck, then placed a hand over his heart. All felt normal, though his heart was racing a little.

     “Okay then? I’ve passed your tests?” Nicholas asked, smirking a little and obviously trying not to enjoy Danny’s hands on his skin; they were already running late as it was. Danny pulled his hands away and nodded.

     “Great, I’m going to grab my clothes and have a shower,” Nicholas said, exiting the bathroom and heading towards the stairs. “Could you brew us some coffee?” Danny nodded again and smiled, happy to see Nicholas back to normal.

     As the coffee dripped into the pot, Danny riffled through the fridge, looking for something sensible to make for breakfast, something that wouldn’t reignite Nicholas’ nausea. He pulled out some fruit and saw the dreaded hummus container sitting near the back.

     “Let’s get rid of you before you do any more damage,” Danny said, pulling the offending container out of the fridge.

     He was about to chuck it in the trash when he noticed the seal on the lid wasn’t broken. No one had eaten this hummus, yet it was the only container in the fridge that Danny could find. His suspicions reared their heads again, but Danny mentally stuck his fingers in his ears and refused to listen to them. Just because Nicholas hadn’t gotten sick from hummus didn’t mean he was lying. Nicholas wouldn’t lie to him. Still, Danny was Nicholas’ partner, not just on the job, but in life. He made a note to keep an extra close eye on Nicholas throughout the day.

     For the most part, everything went normally. Nicholas ate fruit and cereal for breakfast and went for a run a few minutes later. He’d left his coffee, however, so Danny poured it into a thermos and brought it to work. Nicholas, already in uniform and sitting at his desk going over some reports, looked up when Danny came in. He smiled warmly at Danny’s thoughtfulness and gratefully accepted the coffee.

     “Thank you Danny,” he replied softly. When both of them were in uniform Nicholas tried to keep their relationship professional, only using “Sergeant Butterman” or just “Sergeant”. But since the work day hadn’t technically started yet, and Danny hadn’t changed into his uniform, Nicholas didn’t mind letting this slip out. Danny beamed at Nicholas, then headed to the locker room to change. Doris, heading home from the night shift, cornered him in the hall and insisted on telling him about her newest romantic conquest.

     Danny didn’t notice as Nicholas slipped past them into the loo.

***

     The rest of the day went by almost normally, the usual issues with swans and tweens and hippies resolved quickly and with minimum running involved. Nicholas and Danny clocked out at 5 and were heading down the hall when they passed Walker and Saxon coming in for their shift. The officers nodded amicably at each other, but Saxon suddenly stopped and stared at the pair. Nicholas wasn’t much of a dog person (or a pet person at all, to be honest), but Danny loved animals; he leaned over and ruffled Saxon’s fur. The dog didn’t acknowledge this or take his eyes off Nicholas, which was making Nicholas oddly uncomfortable.

     “Aright, cmonpup,” Walker mumbled, pulling on Saxon’s leash.

     For a moment it looked as though Saxon wasn’t going to move, his eyes fixed on Nicholas, who was trying his best to move out of the dog’s line of sight. Finally Saxon relented and followed Walker down the hall; Saxon’s nose twitched when he passed by Nicholas, and he kept glancing back until he and Walker rounded the corner.

     Nicholas and Danny exchanged equally confused looks.

     “That was weird,” Danny commented. “What d’ya suppose was up with Saxon?”

     Nicholas shrugged; he was clueless when it came to dogs.

     “Not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe I smell of something?”

     Danny’s eyes twinkled and he gripped Nicholas’ jacket, pulling him in close before sticking his nose in the crook of Nicholas’ neck and sniffing. Nicholas rolled his eyes and tried to suppress his smile.

     “Danny…”

     “Mmm,” Danny murmured, face still planted in Nicholas’ neck. “Ya smell lovely to me, Nicky.”

     Before he could reply, the door behind them opened and the Andes walked in; or rather, walked two feet in, then stopped. Andy C made fake gagging noises, while Andy W rolled his eyes.

     “Oh, cut it the fuck out already,” Andy W groaned, shoving passed the two.

     “Yeah, leave that shit out of the station, thank you very fuckin’ much,” Andy C added, following close behind.

     Danny reluctantly let go of Nicholas’ jacket, then gave him an amused look.

     “They’re ones to talk, eh?” Danny whispered (loud enough for the Andes to hear, of course). He and Nicholas quickly vacated the station as a bin hit the wall beside them with a _thunk_!

***

     It was movie night. While Danny was skimming through the takeout menu from the new Chinese restaurant downtown, Nicholas was supposed to be picking out a movie from Danny’s vast collection. But when Danny went to ask Nicholas whether he wanted spring rolls or egg rolls, he found his partner fast asleep on the couch. Danny resisted the urge to wake him up, as he looked so utterly exhausted. Instead Danny picked up the blanket at the end of the couch and draped it over Nicholas, then kissed him gently on the forehead and switched off the lights.

     When Danny woke up in bed the next morning, Nicholas was already gone, a hastily scribbled note left on the kitchen counter: “Danny, sorry I fell asleep, didn’t mean to spoil movie night. Feel much better today, will make it up to you tonight. I’m doing an early run, I’ll meet you at the station. Love, Nicholas.”

***

     In reality Nicholas was not feeling better. He had woken up with the same feeling of nausea that had greeted him the previous morning, and though it had passed after a few deep breaths, he knew it was only temporary. Rather than worry Danny (and, if he was honest with himself, to avoid having to take a sick day) Nicholas left the house early, taking several short cuts to get to work with over an hour to spare. He greeted Turner with a quick wave, hoping his sweaty, pale appearance would be written off as the result of a long run in the hot summer weather.

     Almost as soon as he entered the locker room, Nicholas felt a wave of nausea overtake him and he barely made it to the toilet in time.

     Several minutes later, he was still sitting by the bowl, his stomach now calm and empty but his nerves shaken. He rested his head against the cool metal of the stall, taking in deep breaths and trying to ignore that niggling feeling the back of his head.

      _It’s just food poisoning_ , his mind loudly insisted, ignoring the fact that he’d hardly had anything to eat after lunch yesterday. Ignoring the way the coffee had made him gag. Ignoring how tired he’d been feeling for past week. Ignoring ignoring ignoring. _Something’s gone off in the fridge, or I’ve got a very mild flu, or some other non-infectious illness. That’s all it is._

     Having temporarily convinced himself (though not really, if he thought about it), Nicholas got to his feet, trying not to let his body shake. He was glad he hadn’t changed yet, as his uniform would have been soaked in sweat. He stripped off his shirt and ran it under the water in the sink, already spinning a lie to tell Danny about spilling coffee on it.

     Half an hour later, Nicholas sat at his desk in his uniform, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him and not on the doubt and worries running around in his mind. For once, names, dates, and accounts of criminal activities couldn’t pull Nicholas out of his own head. It wasn’t that he _knew_ that he was pregnant, it was more that he strongly suspected it and had placed “pregnancy” high on the list of possibilities. Really high. Right at the top, actually.

     Finally, he threw his pen down and put his head in his hands. He needed to think about this, and think about it before Danny or any of the others arrived and the work day officially began. He couldn’t keep _not thinking_ for the rest of the day; Danny would notice. Danny always noticed.

     First, Nicholas did the math. The last time he and Danny had sex was three days ago, but the last time they had _unprotected_ sex was…Nicholas frowned when he realized it was a month and a half ago, the night of their anniversary. The timing made sense and worked out perfectly, which was…not what Nicholas wanted?

     He wasn’t sure. He and Danny had only briefly discussed having kids, about a year into their relationship. It wasn’t a very serious discussion, rather something they’d been chatting about while watching a Disney movie. He knew Danny wanted kids, but he didn’t know the when or the how or even the who with, though he strongly suspected Danny would love to have kids with Nicholas.

     For his part, Nicholas did want kids. But he had it all planned out, and this…this wasn’t planned. Nicholas liked plans, and though Danny had taught him how to loosen up over the years, this was a bit bigger than drinking more than two beers or washing his darks with his lights or sneaking a kiss while in line at the supermarket. This was a life changing event. Something that required hindsight and preparation. Could he – no, could _they_ be ready for something like this?

     There was also the physical side of things. As Chief, Nicholas was expected to be in charge of the station and his colleagues. If they did this, he would have to go on Light Duty eventually. Though he would put it off for as long as possible, the idea of assigning himself desk duty made him cringe, as did the thought of sending Danny out on patrol with another officer. He and Danny had a rhythm, a way of knowing what the other was thinking, a total rapport that made them an unstoppable team. Would Danny be hampered, working with another partner? He worked well with Doris and Tony, and even Walker sometimes, but it wasn’t the same.

     Eventually Nicholas would have to take time off work entirely. Usually when Nicholas was gone, be it on a trip to London or taking a sick day, he left Danny in charge. But Danny would also be busy at that time; would he really want to burden Danny with taking charge of the station and taking care of Nicholas and a baby? If not, who could he leave in charge? Doris was his next choice; she had recently made sergeant, and had a knack for getting the boys to listen to her in a way Danny never could.

     So many thoughts and ideas whirled around in his head, but one thing was clear: he would have to tell Danny about his suspicions. He looked up as the man in question entered the station, shooting Nicholas a quick smile. It was decided. He would talk to Danny tonight.

***

     The day flew by, or at least it felt like it to Nicholas. He was nervous about talking to Danny, but also secretly relieved that he would finally stop lying to him (or rather, stop omitting the truth). Danny seemed unaware of any nerves Nicholas might be feeling, though he did ask him three times how he was feeling and if he had eaten anything. Nicholas had managed to down a sandwich and a bottle of water without feeling ill, which seemed to put Danny’s mind at ease. By the time they clocked out that night, Nicholas was feeling physically much better and a tiny spark of hope ignited in his chest as they drove home.

      _Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe I’m fine._

     They were barely through the front door when Nicholas felt Danny’s large hand land upon his shoulder; he spun Nicholas around. The door clicked shut behind him and Danny leaned against it, pulling Nicholas towards him.

     “So…,” Danny began as his left hand snuck its way around Nicholas, pulling him in closer. “Your note said somethin’ about makin’ it up to me? About tonight…and you…and me?”

     Nicholas placed his hand on the back of Danny’s neck, playing softly with his hair before pulling Danny in for a passionate kiss. His tongue caressed the inside of Danny’s mouth as his other hand gripped Danny’s arm tightly. Danny wrapped both arms around Nicholas, hands eagerly grabbing his arse. Nicholas moaned.

     Suddenly, the kissing stopped, or rather, Nicholas stopped kissing and pulled back. He felt the familiar feeling of nausea coming over him, and he cursed its timing. Nicholas pushed Danny away, hating the hurt look Danny gave him but not having any time for explanations as he ran to the bathroom. He knew Danny would be close behind, but he was too busy throwing up to think about that.

     Nicholas leaned back against the wall, eye closed, listening to the sound of the toilet flushing and focusing on calming his nerves. As the sound receded, he looked up at Danny and sighed.

     “I think I should see a doctor,” Nicholas admitted, holding out a hand; Danny took it and pulled Nicholas up, then gently embraced him.

     “I’ll go with you,” Danny said, the tone of his voice allowing no room for arguing. Nicholas wouldn’t have it any other way; he wanted Danny there with him if his thoughts were confirmed. This was something they should find out together. He didn’t tell Danny his suspicions though; what was the point in making both of them get worried or excited or…whatever…if it turned out this was just the flu?

     Danny rubbed Nicholas’ back gently and they stood in the bathroom for a moment, holding each other. Nicholas was shaking a little, partially an after effect of throwing up, and partially because he was so worried about whatever would happen the following day. He could go after criminals aiming deadly weapons at his head without breaking a sweat, but becoming a father made his head ache, his legs shake, and his mind spin with endless questions, doubts, and fears. He clung to Danny harder, his anchor in the storm of nervous emotion he was battling against. If Danny noticed, he didn’t say a word, just continued the soothing circles on his back.

     When the two pulled apart, Nicholas found himself feeling calmer and more in-control that he had been the past two days. He offered Danny the biggest smile he could muster and whispered, “Thank you.”

     Danny look confused but he shrugged and simply said, “It’s what I’m here for. I’ll call tomorrow morning, right at 9, so maybe we should take the morning off, yeah?”

     Nicholas nodded, barely thinking about what that meant, taking time off and shuffling around schedules and not being there to keep everyone on track. He just wanted to have this illness or pregnancy or whatever it was diagnosed and dealt with as soon as possible. The not knowing was harder than the symptoms themselves.

***

     The doctor’s office was bright and clean, and smelled of disinfectant with a hint of a floral scent underneath. Normally these were things Nicholas enjoyed, but today they just served to remind him where he was and what he was doing. He hadn’t been to the doctor’s since his bout with the flu the previous winter; for all his praise for living a healthy lifestyle, eating right, exercising, getting a full 8 hours sleep every night, Nicholas hated going to the doctor’s. He didn’t like anything that could take him off work for any reason, and he didn’t like complete strangers poking and prodding him and making him pee in a cup and telling him what he should and shouldn’t put into his body. But he’d promised Danny and he couldn’t break a promise, especially not with Danny standing in the room with him.

     Nicholas shifted on the exam table, the itchy paper gown he’d been required to put on not making him feel any more comfortable.

     “I don’t see why I couldn’t just tell him my symptoms,” Nicholas grumbled, tugging uselessly at the gown as though that would make it feel any better. “Does he think I’m going to lie about how I’m feeling?”

     “Nicky, he’s gotta be able to see ya,” Danny told him, blissfully thumbing through an old issue of _Radio Times_ he’d nabbed from the waiting room. “If you could just tell him everything, we coulda done this over the phone.”

     Nicholas chose not to argue with Danny about this, knowing how futile it would be. They were here, he was disrobed, and the doctor, whenever he decided to show up, would get everything sorted, hopefully before lunch so they could get back to the station for the rest of the day shift.

     “How you feelin’?” Danny asked, setting the magazine aside.

     “I’ll be fine once we’re done here,” Nicholas replied, and he meant it. He had been too nervous to do much of anything that morning, including throwing up. He figured once he was at work, in his uniform, doing his job, he might be able to relax.

     Before Danny could press for any more information, the exam room door swung open and Doctor Hughes came in. Nicholas had never met with this doctor before, one of several new additions to the Sandford Medical staff after Doctor Hatcher got locked up, but he’d been the only doctor available for a 9am appointment. He was an older man, which automatically set Nicholas on edge even though he knew he shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Something about getting shot at by the majority of Sandford’s senior citizens had made Nicholas wary around any older Sandford residents he didn’t know.

     “Hello, Nicholas, Danny,” Dr. Hughes said, treating them like old friends. Nicholas smiled weakly, his typical public smile which didn’t reach his eyes. Danny beamed at the doctor and shook his hand warmly. Pleasantries out of the way, Dr. Hughes walked over to Nicholas, clipboard full of notes and pen at the ready. “So, I understand you’re not feeling well?”

     For the next ten minutes, Nicholas (and Danny) filled the doctor in on all that had been going on in Nicholas’ life, the doctor occasionally asking questions, making “hmmm” noises, and jotting undecipherable notes down on his clipboard. Nicholas reluctantly mentioned his aversion to coffee, which caused Danny to shoot him a confused glance; Nicholas shrugged sheepishly. Once he was completely filled in on Nicholas’ symptoms, the doctor began asking more specific questions: “What have you been eating? When did you last throw up? How long have you been feeling tired? Has this happened before?”

     When he started in on Nicholas’ sex life, the Chief Inspector cringed and clenched his hands rather audibly on the paper sheet covering the table. Sex questions; another reason he hated going to the doctor. Talking about sex in general was one thing, but telling a stranger, even a doctor, the intimate details of his personal life with Danny, was something he did not want to do.

     Danny, on the other hand, had no such aversions to sharing.

     “So, when was the last time you had sex, Nicholas?” Dr. Hughes asked. The silence following his question was loud and obvious. Before Nicholas could come up with a delicate way of answering, Danny chimed in for him.

     “Four nights ago,” he told the doctor matter-of-factly. Nicholas wondered if Danny got the same kind of thrill discussing his sex life in public as he did actually having sex in public.

     “Ah…hmm, is this correct Nicholas?” Dr. Hughes asked.

     Nicholas could feel his face burning all the way up to his ears, but he nodded quickly and mumbled, “Yes.”

     The doctor checked something off on his clipboard.

     “Have you had unprotected sex recently? Say, in the last three months?”

     Nicholas froze, images of his anniversary with Danny filling his head; outside, under the moon, almost getting caught by those kids…how much detail were they supposed to give anyway?

     “That’d be about a month and a half ago, yeah Nicky?” Danny prodded when Nicholas didn’t respond. “It was when we was out…on a date. At a hotel.” Nicholas thanked whatever lucky stars he had left that Danny had caught himself when he did. Again, Nicholas nodded.

     “Right,” the doctor replied. Another check. Before he could ask anything else, someone rapped lightly at the door. The doctor excused himself and left the room to talk with a nurse.

     “Nicky, why’s he asking about our sex life? He think you got an STD or summat?” Danny whispered, as if the doctor was listening in on them. Nicholas fiddled with the edge of the cover and bit his lip.

     “Danny…I think –”

     Before Nicholas could finish, the doctor came back in. He closed the door gently behind him, then paused. Nicholas tensed up a bit and shot Danny a quick glance. The younger man’s face had taken on a new look, one of dawning realization slowly turning to surprise. He turned to look at Nicholas, who shrugged and offered a small smile. Danny’s face nearly broke into a grin, but he caught himself, and turned to hear what the doctor had to say.

     “Nicholas, I have the results from your urine test here,” Dr. Hughes began. He paused, and cast a glance at Danny.

     “He can stay,” Nicholas told the doctor, squeezing Danny’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, I want him here with me.” Danny blushed and placed a hand over Nicholas’, squeezing back.

     “Very well,” Dr. Hughes continued, smiling at the pair. “I’m sure this won’t come entirely as a surprise, but…you’re pregnant.”

     Nicholas heard Danny gasp, and he felt a weight lift off him light a heavy cloak being removed from his shoulders, but he didn’t smile. The doctor noticed their reactions.

     “I take it this is…an unexpected pregnancy,” he commented, pulling some pamphlets off of his clipboard. He handed them to Nicholas, then turned to the door. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone.”

     Before the door had clicked shut behind him, Danny positioned himself in front of Nicholas with pleading eyes. Nicholas opened his mouth to speak, sure that Danny was about to question Nicholas about why he hadn’t filled him in on his suspicions, but Danny held his hand up.

     “I know this is a surprise, okay?” Danny started. “I know you like things all planned out and prepared for and neat and orderly and such, and this isn’t like that. I get that. We haven’t even really talked about havin’ kids, and I’m not gonna ask you to do somethin’ you don’t wanna do an’ I know we’ve got loads of time to try again…it’s just…”

     Danny trailed off and blinked a few times, trying to clear away the tears. Nicholas’ heart lurched in his chest, but before he could say anything, Danny continued.

     “I would love to have kids with you, Nicky,” he said, his voice breaking. “More than anything’. But if this isn’t gonna happen just…can I just have this moment to enjoy this thing that’s…that’s not gonna happen? Just a moment, and then we-”

     “Danny,” Nicholas cut in; he hated to see Danny like this, all choked up and forlorn, focusing on his hands, which were nervously twisting together in front of him. Nicholas reached out a hand and cupped Danny’s cheek, gently turning his gaze to Nicholas’ face.      “Danny, this…this can happen.”

     Danny furrowed his brow and some of the pain left his face.

     “Whaddya mean?”

     “Danny…I’m not opposed to having a child with you,” Nicholas explained. “I would never be able to do this on my own; but with you by my side…well, I think we’ve proven in the past, we can do anything together.”

     Danny’s face broke into a smile, one of the biggest and happiest Nicholas had ever seen on Danny, and given how often Danny smiled, that was really saying something. Danny wrapped his arms around Nicholas, still seated on the exam table, and laid his head on Nicholas’ chest.

     “You’re sure about this?” Danny asked after a moment, looking up.

     Nicholas nodded.

     “I’m not saying it will be easy,” he said. “God knows it hasn’t been so far-“

     Danny laughed and Nicholas was relieved to see Danny looking like his familiar cheerful self, tears of sadness turned to tears of joy.

     “I want to do this,” Nicholas continued. “And it’s not such bad timing, I mean, we are doing well financially, the job’s good, we’ve got the space, there’s no major cases looming…”

     He could feel Danny’s body shaking with barely suppressed laughter, though whether it was from sheer joy or from hearing Nicholas’ typical Nicholas-logic speech, he couldn’t tell.

     “You’ll need to go on Light Duty,” Danny said, giving Nicholas a very pointed look. Nicholas cringed.

     “Eventually, yes,” he conceded. “You’ll have to be my main man on the streets, Danny. I may pair you up with Tony or Doris, so you’ll have to get used to that.” Danny nodded.

     “We’ll have to tell your mum,” Danny reminded him, looking excited; he and Nicholas’ mum adored each other, and Nicholas suspected the news would make her very happy. Then Danny grimaced. “And we should tell my dad…I can do that myself, no use bringing you in there and upsettin’ the baby with dad’s…reaction.” Danny sighed unhappily; Frank had never warmed to their relationship, both because Nicholas was a man and because Nicholas was _the_ man who’d put him behind bars and ruined his Village of the Year aspirations and corrupted his son and the entire Sandford police service.

     “If you’re sure about that,” Nicholas replied, rubbing Danny’s back soothingly.

     “Ooo, and we can start watchin’ Disney films!” Danny said, pulling himself out of funk about his dad as quickly as he’d gotten into it. “I’m gonna have to buy more though, I think I’ve only got twelve. And we can take him to Disneyland when he’s older and buy him mouse ears with his name –”

     “Danny, we don’t even know the baby’s gender,” Nicholas cut in, amused by Danny’s enthusiasm.      “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

     “Yeah, okay,” Danny agreed. “One step at a time. Baby steps.”

     Then he grinned at his own pun and Nicholas couldn’t help smiling back. Seconds later, the door opened and Dr. Hughes came back in.

     “So…is everything alright?” he said, noting the happy looks on both men’s faces, and the way Danny still had his arms around Nicholas’ waist. Nicholas nodded.

     “Everything’s fine,” he replied. “We’re having the baby.”

     Dr. Hughes smiled, but before he could utter a word, Danny pulled himself away from Nicholas and put on his serious Sergeant Butterman official policeman officer face.

     “Right, we have a lot of questions we need you to answer,” he said, facing the doctor. He pulled his notebook and pen out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open to a blank page (well, blank aside from a cartoon doodle of a monkey in the corner). “First, when should Nicholas go on Light Duty? Second, what sorts of things should he be eating? Is there any food he _shouldn’t_ eat? What about vitamins? He’s gotta have them pre-natural vitamins, yeah, we want the best kind there are. Third…no, fourth, how many check-ups should he have? Is once a week too few? Is there a special baby doctor we should be goin’ to? Fifth…”

     As Danny prattled on, Nicholas leaned back on the table, trying to get comfortable. This was going to be a long pregnancy.


	3. Chapter 3

     Making a decision is easier than living it. It was easy to decide to climb Everest; it wasn’t so easy to remember why that sounded like a good idea, when you were at 5,000 meters and the air was getting so thin you couldn’t think. It was easy to decide to give this parenthood thing a shot; it was hard to do your job when you hadn’t kept anything down in days.

     Nicholas was _tired_. He was annoyed. His patience was just about used up, and it had only been a few weeks. Every comma out of place in the Andes’ reports, Saxon’s summertime panting, one of Danny’s socks - just, infuriatingly, the _one_ \- on the bath mat, it all had the power to drive him up the wall. 'Morning' sickness was a lie; from the first sniff of breakroom coffee in the morning to Danny's apologetic peanut butter sandwich for dinner, everything turned his stomach. And sometimes it was absolutely nothing, which was somehow worse.

     The rationalization game wasn’t working, either. If Nicholas Angel, professional skeptic, had any superstitions, it was a belief in the panacean power of reason. It went like this: now that he knew what was wrong, shouldn’t he be feeling _better_? But he wasn’t feeling better, in fact, he was feeling a hell of a lot worse. 

     It lead to nights like this, when he stayed at his desk catching up after the constant, interrupted day. He had lost a lot of good paperwork time, having to excuse himself to the men’s every time he felt ill. Keeping this kind of schedule meant he was losing sleep, but something had to give somewhere, and Nicholas would be damned if it was him. 

     Plus, it was easier than going home. Over the last few weeks, he had made an ungraceful retreat from Danny. He had relapsed into the old Nicholas, the one who worried about... well, socks and commas. Having things in their right place. A semblance of control. He could keep the chaos to a minimum here in his office. His Fortress of Solitude, he’d heard one of the Andy’s sneer. Not sure who coined it; maybe Danny, feeling particularly shut out. But Danny wasn’t one to gossip around the station - not when it came to them, anyway. Their lives. Ups and downs. Nicholas was private like an animal, and Danny sheltered that, kept that confidence. Even when things were bad - or - or not _great_.

     When they were at home, when it was just the two of them, Nicholas kept snapping at Danny. He didn't know how to stop. 

     Nicholas looked at the tower blocks of paperwork squared neatly on his desk, and at the numbers at the corner of his computer monitor. He’d run down the clock another hour or so. 

     Danny, meanwhile, finished his shift on time, and he was at home waiting. He’d been to the store to stock up a tempting array of the blandest, most boring foods he could think of, plain hummus and thin-sliced cucumbers and a package of the driest biscuits he knew. He’d done the laundry, because they were both running low on pants and socks and shirts. He hadn’t gotten things on the hangers quite as straight as Nicholas could have, but he had done a pretty good job. He had even done the tidying up. He was particularly proud of the lav, which was sparkling like an advert for eco-friendly cleaner. 

     When Nicholas turned the key in the lock, Danny came down the stairs to meet him. The _clutter-free_ stairs, after he’d moved the piles of magazines and shoes. 

     Nicholas barely seemed to notice. He gave Danny a terse hello and went to shower and change. Danny shrugged and flopped himself on the sofa with one of the rescued magazines. He looked at the catalog of stab vests and high-visibility gear without really seeing it, while his brain turned over the current tense predicament. Like defusing a bomb - or a sea mine - or something, Danny didn’t know what to say to Nicholas in this kind of mood. His usual easy chattering dried up when Nicholas looked so _tired_ of everything. 

     He smiled at Nicholas when he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel on his damp hair and clad in his drawstring pajama pants and long-sleeved shirt. Nicholas dropped onto the couch beside him and took stock of the room. (No beer cans, no stray dishes, all the books back on the shelf - Danny was pretty proud of that, too. He hoped Nicholas would notice.)

     Nicholas fixed on the pile of mail sitting on the coffee table. “Did you write the cheque for the electric bill?”

     “Not yet,” Danny said sheepishly. “Forgot.”

     Nicholas sighed. “Danny -”

      _‘Danny’_ was how all of his little speeches started lately. Danny got a look on his face like a chastened puppy. He really was sorry - he shouldn’t have forgotten, and he felt terrible about stressing Nicholas out at a time like this. 

     But the rest of the reprimand didn’t come. “Never mind.” Nicholas was too tired, he had run out of steam. 

     “Do you want to try to eat somethin’?” Danny asked. “I went to the shop -” 

     “No,” Nicholas said impatiently. 

     Danny, at a loss for anything else to do, shrugged. “Alright.”

     “Let’s just watch a movie, okay?” 

     “Okay.” Danny, eager to please, hustled off the sofa and grabbed the nearest DVD. _The Italian Job_ , the one they had watched just yesterday, but he wouldn’t mind seeing it again. He slid it into the player. 

     They settled on the couch. Danny reached up and turned the lamp off, bathing them in flickering light from the telly. Nicholas curled up against his side and Danny put an arm around him, carefully, like handling a broken limb. 

     Nicholas was asleep almost before his head hit Danny’s shoulder. 

* * *

     Nicholas woke with a stiff neck and a thrumming headache. The sun was up. The movie was sitting on its menu; Danny had muted it sometime in the night. 

     Nicholas pulled himself away from Danny and got hit with a too familiar wave of nausea. If he moved too fast, or too slowly, or got up too quickly, or sat down - it was like a bad case of vertigo. He clenched his teeth and breathed through them until the feeling passed. 

     Danny, woken by the chilly space where Nicholas had been, stretched his arms above his head and spied Nicholas still on the sofa. 

     “All right?” Danny asked. “Take it slow -”

     "I'm fine.” Or not so fine, he bolted for the bathroom. 

     Danny didn’t want to hover, so he hovered in the kitchen instead. He scribbled out the cheque for the electric and found the stamps. Nicholas, looking nice and pale, came into the kitchen to grab fresh batteries for his pedometer. 

     As Nicholas made uncommunicative, leave-me-alone noise digging through the crowded drawer, Danny had a lousy compulsion to say something. “Nicky. Have some orange juice. Have a cup of tea.”

     “I don’t want anything.” Nicholas popped the battery cover off of his pedometer.

     “You didn’t have anything yesterday.”

     “I said, I’m fine.” 

     Danny was too good-natured to argue. 

     Nicholas said, with the same ironclad terseness, “I’m going for a run. Eat while I’m out.” 

     “Okay.” 

     Nicholas disappeared from the kitchen.

     Danny took out the jam and butter and waited for the creak and slam of the front door, Nicholas’s usual energetic start to the day. He pulled the carton of orange juice out of the fridge because it was the least offensive thing he could think of and poured himself a glass. He kept listening; when he had finished his glass and still no telltale sound of Nicholas getting on his way, he left the carton on the counter and went looking. 

     Nicholas was sitting on the stairs by the door, running shoes dangling from his hand. He was hunched over with a hand on his mouth. His shoulders shook as Danny watched. He sniffed.

     “Hey,” Danny said, all gentleness and fear. 

     Nicholas raised his face, red-eyed, and swallowed. He wiped his cheeks with his wrist.

     “What happened?”

     “I broke a shoelace.” And his tone of voice said he knew exactly how stupid this was. 

     “Do you want one of mine?” (Danny’s brain knew exactly how stupid that was, too.)

     Nicholas shook his head. 

     “I’ll find something,” Danny promised. He left Nicholas and went to the junk drawer in the kitchen, dug through it. He found a pair of black laces, probably spares for their duty boots. He brought them back and sat down on the step next to Nicholas, who hadn’t moved an inch.

     “Give it here,” he said, and took the shoe out of Nicholas’s unprotesting hand.

     Nicholas watched Danny’s fingers as he pulled out the broken lace and knit the new one through the loops. He blinked until he could see clearly and watched his partner’s big hands do that delicate work.

     “Want me to do the other one so they match?” Danny offered, handing it back. 

     Nicholas’s stupid tears had dried, and there was a splash of red on his cheekbones. And he still felt bloody awful. “No.” 

     He focused on tying his sneakers. He knew he should thank Danny. He wanted to touch him, have Danny wrap him up in his arms, tell him how grateful he was and let him know that everything was just too much right now - but he couldn’t do any of those things, because, first, he didn’t know how, and second, he was about to be sick again if he didn’t get out of this musty hallway and into the fresh air. He needed sunlight and the breeze on his face, now, and space to breathe. He gave Danny an awkward pat on the arm, too android and cold, more like slamming a door than bridging a gap, and left Danny sitting on the steps as he brushed out the door.

* * * 

     He got to work, showered, changed, and was at his desk when Danny clocked in right on time. Danny gave Nicholas a professional nod, gathered the troops for roll call, and headed out on the beat. 

     It was an almost silent walk up and down the high street. Danny made innocuous, subdued comments about the weather (bloody hot), and tried to cheer Nicholas up by pointing out a suspicious parcel - though, as Nicholas observed with his clever, trained eye, it was sitting on someone’s doorstep and it had an Amazon logo on the side. It was upside down. Danny set it right, because it was their duty. 

     They continued their slow, ambling patrol as the day got hotter. It was almost noon, getting on time to break for lunch. Their collars were limp with sweat. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and no shade, either. Their pace slowed some more and Danny glanced sidelong at Nicholas. Nicholas was wearing his resolute face, lips set tight and probably - Danny couldn’t see behind the aviators - staring at nothing, about five feet in front of his nose. 

     He hadn’t seen Nicholas smile in days and Danny was starting to feel a little frayed. They had been so happy a few weeks ago. Danny didn’t understand where all that had gone. 

     He wished Nicholas would talk to him. He wished Nicholas would laugh. Before, he could always get a smile out of Nicholas. That was Danny’s claim to fame, that was why - he suspected - Nicholas loved him at all. And if Danny couldn’t make him laugh, couldn’t even make him smile anymore… 

     Danny was not a complicated man. He had been unhappy - more than he ever let on - in that time before Nicholas which didn’t matter now - and he had been unhappy for straightforward reasons. Something he wanted to happen wasn’t happening. Or something he didn’t want to happen was. 

     He glanced again at the empty reflection in Nicholas’s sunglasses. 

      _Maybe he changed his mind._ There, that was it. That was the fear that Danny had been keeping out of words for the last couple of weeks. Maybe Nicholas had changed his mind about a family. Maybe he didn’t want this after all. 

     The thought didn’t make Danny happy. It hurt, really. But Nicholas was so clever. He knew what was best.

     They turned a corner and strolled toward the park, and Danny decided once they got under the trees, they needed a break. Nicholas looked like he could use one. They could find a bench and sit for a while. (Danny would say he had a stone in his shoe.) Maybe they could talk. But mostly, Danny wanted to get Nicholas out of the sun. The sweat was running down Nicholas’s temples and neck and his face was closed like a storm cellar. 

     He was so lost in his own thoughts, whatever they were, that Danny was the one who jostled him with an elbow and pointed out the pale lanky kid with a screwdriver working at the window of a car. One of Sandford’s brand of criminal mastermind; the screwdriver was far too big for the job. The kid smashed at the window with his fist, recoiled in pain, and Nicholas _almost_ smiled. A wisp of one. Danny saw it. 

     The kid looked around and grabbed up one of the bricks that bordered the floral display beside the pavement.

     “Stop!” Nicholas commanded. 

     The offender turned. He looked at Danny. He looked at Nicholas. He dropped the brick and fled down the street, bowling over a reedy old lady as he went, heading for the park and the posh lawns beyond it.

     Nicholas took off like an Olympic sprinter about to miss his train; Danny followed. Nicholas threw himself along like he was making up for the morning’s short run, no pacing, just speed. They were over the hedges and into the park before Danny was halfway down the street. 

     Danny scrambled over the hedge row and onto the field. He was gaining on Nicholas, and for a moment Danny was proud of himself - sharing Nicholas’s vegetarian diet, he had lost about a stone. 

     When he _kept_ gaining on Nicholas, the warning bells went off in his head. He was getting faster, but Nicholas was obviously getting slower, reaching the edge of the park and the gates that opened onto the tennis lawn-like gardens beyond.

     Nicholas got to the park’s wrought-iron gate. He stumbled to a stop and grabbed for it. He dropped, and Danny forgot all about the perp and the job and covered the distance in some kind of record. 

* * * 

     The nurses were very kind; one of them stayed with Danny, maybe figuring him for a coronary. They took Nicholas away behind the sterile white curtains and forced Danny to do the who-what-where-when standing at the nurse’s station. Danny signed some papers he didn’t bother to read. 

     Finally they let him be with Nicholas. Nicholas was still out cold, motionless on the gurney. He was scraped up from the fall and his crash through the hedges. There were cat-scratches of bright red blood on his hands and arms. They had taken his stab vest and duty belt and tie off and he looked fragile in his white, short-sleeved duty shirt. Danny wanted to hold him. 

     He was surrounded by nurses doing things Danny didn’t catch. One of them shined a penlight into Nicholas’s eyes, peeling up his lids with her thumb, another hung a bag on a stand beside the gurney. The blood pressure cuff was still hissing as they slid a needle into one of the stark blue veins on his hand. Danny winced. The blood backed up the tube and then the nurse started the IV drip, washing it away. 

     A monitor clip on the end of his finger, and a machine at the head of the bed beeped to life to track his heart rate. After that flurry of activity, the nurses vanished. They were alone - or as alone as they could be, in an A&E ward, with a busy nurse’s station and phones and the constant clicking of the automated doors, but they were curtained off for privacy. 

     Danny dragged the battered-looking chair closer to the bedside and sat down. He touched Nicholas’s arm. Nicholas had pinprick goosepimples down his arms; the air conditioning was too high, his shirt was wet through with sweat. Danny took his cool hand and chafed the palm gently to warm it up. 

     Nicholas shivered and for Danny, everything went blurry. “I’m sorry.” 

     He said it out loud. He was sorry. He felt wretched, he felt like a failure. He couldn’t do anything for Nicholas. He should have taken better care of him. He should have realised it would be too hard. He should be able to get a blanket for Nicholas, but there weren’t any blankets, so Danny stroked his hand, careful of the IV tape and tubing, and apologized again. He felt hot tears on his cheeks. 

     The curtain opened and a tall, broad-shouldered doctor stepped in. Blond hair, a white coat, built like a rugby player. Danny looked up at him. 

     "Sergeant Butterman?" the doctor asked.

     Danny nodded.

     "I’m Dr. Hansen. Can I call you Daniel?" 

     "’Danny’’s fine," Danny said. He tried to pull himself together. The doctor was being so... nice... it had to be bad news.

     The doctor smiled kindly. "Danny: everyone's okay. Chief Angel is a bit dehydrated, but we'll take care of that."

     A nurse came in with a tray of syringes. They exchanged some numbers Danny didn't understand and Doctor Hansen addressed Danny again as he checked the heart monitor and Nicholas’s chart. "When's the last time he had a good meal?” 

     Danny shrugged.

     “Has he been eating?"

     Danny touched Nicholas’s cheek with the back of his hand. "He's been too sick.”

     The nurse selected one of the syringes, filled it, and slowly introduced it to his IV. Danny stared and Doctor Hansen explained, “That’s what I thought. We’re going to help him out a bit.”

     Finished with the shot, the nurse started dabbing disinfectant on his scratches with a cotton ball. As she worked there was a blip on the heart and blood pressure monitors, and Doctor Hansen smiled. “Looks like he’ll be back with us shortly.” 

     The world filtered into Nicholas’s head slowly. He smelled antiseptic and he heard the steady ping of a heart monitor. 

     Hospital. Hospital? Shit, he must have fallen asleep - he meant to stay awake, the doctors said Danny might wake up any time now. The room was too cold. Danny was probably freezing. Nicholas had told them, they always kept his room too cold.

     He tried to sit up, and he heard Danny’s voice. “Nicky, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

     He sounded all choked up, clogged, sorry. Nicholas opened his eyes, startled, and the lights blinded him. He put his hand up to shade them, yanking at his IV and the tape on his skin. It bloody hurt. He grimaced and pulled at it again, and then there was a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

     "Don't move. It’s okay."

     Danny. Nicholas calmed down. He turned to look at Danny, still squinting against the lights. His head was swimming, but he reconstructed the last few memories like one of those stupid sequences on CSI: "Did you get him?"

     Through his tears, Danny grinned in relief. 

     Nicholas frowned as Danny’s tears registered. “Danny, what -” 

     Doctor Hansen smoothly stepped in. “You gave us a fright, Mr. Angel. But everything's fine.”

     “What happened?” Nicholas asked. 

     “Dehydration. Only moderate, but in this heat it could have been much worse.” Doctor Hansen consulted his chart again. ““Let’s have you sit up.” 

     Nicholas got upright with some help from the nurse, with only a flutter on the heart monitor and a touch of dizziness. 

     The worry was back on Danny’s face, but Dr. Hansen didn’t seem surprised. 

     “Do you have any symptoms when you stand up?” he asked Nicholas, checking his pulse again.

     “My ears ring. Sometimes.” Nicholas was curt; he was embarrassed by this whole thing.

     “It happens. It’ll clear up in a few months. Just make sure you take it slow,” Dr. Hansen advised, and Danny’s face perked up. 

     “That’s what I tried to tell him,” Danny said. 

     Nicholas crossed his arms. He scowled at the IV in his hand. 

     “Mr. Angel?”

     Nicholas glanced at Danny. “Danny, I could really go for a Mars bar. Could you see if...”

     Danny hesitated, looking like he had something he wanted to say. Then he buttoned his mouth in a smile and stood up. He almost dropped his cap. “Yeah. Sure Nic’las.” 

     When he was gone, and the nurse had stepped out of the alcove and they were more or less alone, Doctor Hansen sat down and got more businesslike. "Mr. Angel, you haven't been doing yourself any favours.”

     “What should I be doing?" Nicholas asked, a little petulantly. Doctors never brought out the best in him.

     Dr. Hansen glanced at the long sheet of bloodwork results on his clipboard. “Well, taking your pre-natal vitamins, for a start. These numbers aren’t good.” 

     “I can’t keep them down,” Nicholas said gruffly. 

     "I gathered. Here - something to help with the nausea.” Hansen scribbled something and tore the prescription off his pad. He handed it to Nicholas.

     Nicholas wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like taking medicine. Homeopathy wasn’t his style, either. He didn’t care much for remedies of any sort. It was his stubborn organic streak. “Thank you, but -”

     “I recommend you get that filled and start them this evening. Or we'll be doing this again, probably very soon, and next time you might not be so lucky.” 

     Nicholas folded the prescription and tucked it into his pocket. 

     Doctor Hansen paged through his clipboard. "We gave you an antiemetic. You’ll start feeling better soon. It should last most of the day, so get some food down while you feel like it. And take the pills."

     Nicholas nodded. 

     "Any other questions?"

     The only one that mattered. “Can I get back to work?”

     “You’re not going anywhere until the IV is finished. After that, what you do is up to you. But I wouldn't recommend it."

     Nicholas seemed satisfied. 

     "Do you want a little more advice?"

     Nicholas made a grudgingly curious sound.

     "Talk to your partner. He’s going through this, too."

* * * 

     While Nicholas sat around waiting for the IV to finish, Danny went to collect their car. He was waiting again when Nicholas was finally untangled and released, after proving he could drink a glass of cranberry juice. Danny pulled the car around and picked him up at the entrance, and tapped the steering wheel anxiously as Nicholas buckled his seatbelt. He always got nervous when he thought he was about to make Nicholas mad: 

     “I called us both in. We don’t have to go back today.” He said it apologetically, not looking for a fight. There was an undercurrent in his voice all the same. He _would_ fight about it, if he had to. “Maybe just this once -”

     “All right,” Nicholas agreed, staring out the window at the doors of the emergency entrance. 

     Danny exhaled in relief. “Really?”

     “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

     It was just after two when they got in the door. Nicholas went to shower, where he scrubbed away the stale sweat and the gritty feeling on his skin from hitting the dirt, and tried to peel away the plaster they had stuck to his hand. 

     Danny sighed to himself as he listened to the shower run. He changed out of his uniform and debated what to do next. He was going to have to watch more romantic comedies, he had no idea what his next line should be, here. He could push Nicholas to talk to him and they might have a scene - or a row - or he could let things go on as they had been. He didn’t like either option, but it might be better to have it out with Nicholas. Get it over with.

     Nicholas came out of the shower and Danny watched him in the wardrobe mirror as he dressed. Grey t-shirt, gently plaid pajama bottoms in neutral colors, dark shadows under his eyes. Nicholas sat on the bed to put on his socks while Danny made himself useful and folded up Nicholas’s discarded clothes. 

     Danny took the Mars bar out of Nicholas’s shirt pocket and put it on the night stand. He didn’t say a word, but in the quiet it made a heavy thud. 

     “Danny,” Nicholas said, apologetically. 

     “I know you just wanted to get rid of me for awhile,” Danny said. “I’m not stupid.”

     “I know that.” He wasn’t. He was capable of some remarkable quick-thinking. He was sturdy. If he assimilated things with grunt work instead of divine flashes of insight - so what? So he mixed up words sometimes - _so what_. Nicholas had seen him attack the vocab guidelines, and now Danny’s reports sounded more official, sometimes, than his own. 

     It was Sandford, Nicholas thought, and not for the first time. Little villages where one bad year in nursery school followed you your whole life. They had never let him _be_ clever. He was always Frank’s boy, Frank’s boy with an unhappy mum, Frank’s boy who was always grinning - anyone who was always smiling must be thick. No one ever stopped to think it might be pain. (Or an uncomplicated good-heartedness, the kind Danny had in spades.) Maybe his intellect would never colour outside the lines, but he wasn’t _stupid_.

     "Danny, sit down."

     The mattress dipped as Danny sat awkwardly on the bed beside him. 

     Danny waited, but Nicholas was at a loss for what to say. They sat together, saying nothing, for a long moment. 

     “You can tell me things,” Danny said finally.

     “I know.” Nicholas smoothed the dark bedspread between them.

     “So what’s going on?” Danny asked. 

     “Nothing.” 

     “A’right,” Danny said quietly, stung again.

     Nicholas felt him shrug and glanced over. Danny met his eyes and shied away. He looked doubtful, his frown brought out a crease on his forehead. 

     Nicholas owed him more than that. He reached for Danny’s hand. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”

     Danny looked at Nicholas’s fingers resting on his. “Whatever you wanna do. You know? I know I came on strong at the doctor’s office. Whatever you wanna do is fine with me.” 

     “What are you talking about?”

     Danny’s brown eyes flickered back to his. He shrugged again, minutely. 

     Nicholas looked confused, and Danny explained, quietly, “I thought you might’ve changed your mind.” 

     Nicholas squeezed his hand hard, to make a point. “No.”

     Danny smiled. All forgotten, instantly; that was Danny’s way. “You sure?”

     “I’m sure. We’ll do this.” Nicholas grabbed his folded shirt and took the prescription out of the pocket. “Doc said these’ll help. They’re supposed to keep the nausea under control. It’s nice to finally be -” 

     His stomach growled loudly in the quiet, and Danny chuckled. “Hungry?”

     “I could eat,” Nicholas admitted. 

     Danny’s smile turned into a grin. He was glad to be able to help at last. “What do you want?”

     “Anything,” Nicholas said honestly. He hadn’t realised until this minute, but he was bloody _famished_.

     “Can you wait half an hour?” Danny asked, getting to his feet.

     “Sure.”

 

     Five minutes later he was downstairs looking for something healthier than the Mars bar that was taunting him, and Danny watched out of the corner of his eye as he raided the fridge for some grapes and grabbed a banana off the counter. Nicholas caught his look - he seemed to think this was _funny_. And Nicholas had to laugh, too.

     Danny had the phone tucked against his ear. “Yeah, about nine weeks. - Yeah, really excited. Thanks again!”

     Nicholas peeled his banana and gave Danny a questioning look as he set down the receiver. 

     “I know they’re your favourite, but no poached eggs,” Danny reported officiously. “NHS Direct said so. Food poisoning - too risky.” 

     Nicholas snorted, but Danny was very serious about this, and set about solemnly gathering the eggs, milk, salt and pepper to whisk into an omelet. 

     Nicholas hung around the kitchen and for the first time in days they talked easily. They talked about nothing: the Andes’, work, an oil change for the car. Nicholas sat at the table while Danny cooked and flipped through the chequebook. He saw the entry for the electric bill, thanked Danny, who brushed him off and started on a story about a week without electricity when he was a kid, and how he’d left the lid off a jar of glowworms. It was good to have things back to normal. (And Danny, sauteing spinach, thought that it was nice with just the two of them, and that the moments like this were numbered, and he was going to enjoy them while they lasted - like he was enjoying the fact that it was Wednesday afternoon and Nicholas wasn’t worrying that they should be at work.) 

     Danny put a plate in front of him. The finished creation was an omelet with spinach, mushrooms, a hint of white cheddar and parmesan - subtle flavours that wouldn’t overwhelm. Danny sat across from him while he ate. 

     The conversation petered out while Nicholas tucked in, and Danny lapsed back into his tranquil thoughts. He traced a burn left by some long-ago accident with a candle. The table was a heavy, scarred piece of Butterman antiquity rescued from under a pile of boxes in Danny’s old place. It was at complete odds with the stainless steel robo-kitchen that had attracted Nicholas when they picked this place out. It made no difference to Danny, because he could do wonders on a greasy old hob as well as the five-ring German monstrosity packed under the microwave, but he preferred a place that looked lived-in. He’d never fancied living in a magazine cover. The kitchen was a comfortable compromise, like their lives. He glanced at the gleaming fridge and imagined the sticky jam prints and the crayon and macaroni masterpieces, and grinned. He looked back at Nicholas. 

     “What?” Nicholas asked self-consciously, getting the last bits of spinach onto his fork. 

     “Nothin’.”

     Nicholas put down his knife and fork. He drained his orange juice and sat back from the table, and yawned into his sleeve. “You know, I could do with a nap.”

     “So, take one,” Danny said sensibly. 

     Nicholas had brought down his prescription. He dug it out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. “I should go get that filled. And it’s the middle of the day.”

     “Yeah, but you’re tired, ain’t ya?” 

     Nicholas shrugged. It was hard to argue with that logic. 

     “So, have a nap. I’ll go to the chemist.”

* * * 

     The sun was setting when he woke up. He checked the bedside clock - he hated naps, he always felt like he’d just gotten off a twelve-hour flight, coach class, hurled across a dozen time zones and not sure where or when he was. He was also starving again, although there was a nasty feeling of unwell starting to take hold, too. 

     Luckily, Danny was back with the pills in tow. Nicholas took one under Danny’s watchful eye, and they ensconced themselves on the sofa. Nicholas brought the chequebook to balance it, and started sorting through the mail that had piled up the last few days, while Danny got out his PSP. His eyes started flickering across the screen and his fingers twitched on the controls; Nicholas heard a tinny, puny gunfire from the speakers and he wondered, briefly, at Danny’s insatiable appetite for mayhem.

     An hour in companionable silence, shuffling papers and tiny explosions, and then Danny offered to put on a film. The numbers were swimming in front of Nicholas’s eyes and he agreed. He was feeling unmoored again, kind of… adrift and fuzzy-brained. He didn’t feel sick, but he didn’t feel great, either.

     “You okay?” Danny asked.

     “Yeah, just… I think I’m ready to go back to sleep.” He laughed lightly. 

     Danny had read the med packaging front, back, sides, top, and bottom. “Said on the box ‘may cause drowsiness.” 

     “They weren’t kidding.” Nicholas rubbed his face again. “Sorry, Danny, I don’t think I’ll make it to the first shoot-out.” 

     Danny turned off the television and dropped the remote on the coffee table. “Bed time,” he said. 

     “Sounds good,” Nicholas agreed. 

     Neither of them moved. 

     “You first,” Nicholas said, so comfortable - or sleepy - he didn’t really fancy getting up.

     Danny stood and offered his hand. He pulled Nicholas to his feet and didn’t let go, pulling him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Nicholas woke up enough to brush his teeth, and he was already under the blankets when Danny finished his quick shower and joined him. 

     “Still awake?” Danny asked quietly, slipping into the covers beside him. 

     “Yeah.” His face was in the pillow, his arm was stretched out and his hand was resting on the bedside table, at the base of the lamp. 

     Danny leaned over Nicholas to turn it off, and settled with his hand on Nicholas’s back. Nicholas rolled over to him and Danny gathered him up against his chest. Nicholas sleepily reached up and stroked Danny’s stubble-shadowed chin.

     Danny took the hand, smiling. He kissed the sunken scar on the back of Nicholas’s hand, turned it over, and kissed the matching one on his palm. The scar on his palm cut right through his life-line, separating it into two grooves, jolted apart in a clean break. London, Sandford. Nicholas would laugh at him like he laughed at the horoscopes in the paper if he ever said it out loud, but Danny found it comforting. He didn’t know about ghosts, or whatever, but some things took on their own meaning, some things were self-fulfilling prophecies. 

     Nicholas snuggled against him and tucked his head under Danny’s chin. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a …”

     “’s all right.” Danny kissed the top of his head. 

     “I’ve been treating you like shit.” 

     “Nah.” 

     Nicholas nuzzled him with his forehead, not ready to let it go at at that. “You’re okay?” he asked.

     “Yeah, I’m fine.” Everything would be fine, if he got to hold Nicholas like this all night. 

     “You’re still okay with this?” Nicholas wanted to hear it, because everything had been so hard and miserable the last few weeks, he was afraid he had broken something that would take a long, long time to fix. 

     “Yeah. It’s…” Danny made a soft whistling sound. “It’s amazing, innit?” 

     “Yeah,” Nicholas said ruefully. “Amazing.”

     Danny squeezed him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” 

     Nicholas folded into the embrace, and didn’t know how to say he was glad too - of the wonder in Danny’s voice, the easy, happy strength of his hug. Nicholas was glad to know he could depend on _one_ of them to think straight, even when things weren’t at their best. 

      _If something_ happened _to me_ was Nicholas’s next thought, as it drifted toward sleep. His mind fast-forwarded sometimes months, years at a time - he’d already started playing what if. The future wasn’t just him and Danny anymore. If anything happened to him, he could trust Danny to take care of … everyone. That sort of trust didn’t come easily to anyone, but particularly not to Nicholas Angel. 

     “What would I do without you?” Nicholas asked, not sure if it was rhetorical.

     “What?” Danny asked.

     Nicholas thought about it. Not so rhetorical after all. “I have no idea.”

     A warm laugh. Danny kissed him. Nicholas’s eyes were already closed.

* * * 

     The next morning, Danny woke him up with some crackers and ginger ale (he’d obviously been on the phone with his new friends from the NHS again), made him take his pills, and sent him back to sleep until the alarm went off an hour later. Nicholas got out of bed feeling decent, not well enough yet to go for a run, and let Danny drive him to work where he shut down any questions by pulling on his uniform, squaring every button, and taking his place at his desk like the avatar of unquestionable moral authority he was. He checked his empty in-tray - still empty - and then his empty out-tray. He opened the budget spreadsheet. With the swear box as a line item, they could probably afford a new chair for Doris. That would stop her jokes about the legs being spread wider than - 

     Sergeant Turner, in the middle of shift change with Sergeant Turner, came in with yesterday’s message:

     “Chief Angel, someone from _Lon_ -don called for you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nicholas sat cross-legged on the sofa with an open file box on the coffee table in front of him. It was one of the boxes he had rescued from storage once his cottage was in order, and it was full of identical black notebooks that went back years, all the way back to his first day on the beat. All neatly organized by date, year, case. Nicholas was working his way through 2002 while Danny stared at the rectangle of light from his PSP. He wasn’t paying attention to the game; he was mostly watching Nicholas. Since that call from London, Nicholas had been preoccupied. The moment they got in the door after their shift, Nicholas made for the closet and pulled out his notebooks. He had barely said a word since, even through dinner.

 “Why do they need you?” Danny asked, trying to sound curious instead of frustrated. In his head he heard his da’s voice: _Don’t be mardy now, Danny_.

 “It’s a big case, Danny. One of the biggest I worked.”

 And that was saying something, Danny knew. It just wasn’t sitting right. “You testified once, why do they need to hear it again?”

 Nicholas was flipping pages in his notebook with laser focus. “The case in re-trial. If I don’t go down there, and he wins on appeal, he’ll be back out on the streets. These guys, they pick up right where they left off. They come back stronger.”

 “They’ve got your taped testimony. You could submit a statement. Instead of going all the way t’…”

 “I want to be on the stand. It’s better if I can answer his counsel’s questions. I can look them in the eye, look the jury in the eye. Testifying is an art.”

 “Still don’t see why you have to go,” Danny said.

 “Because that’s how the real world works,” Nicholas snapped.

 They both realised what he’d said at the same time.

 “I didn’t mean that,” Nicholas said, finally looking up from his notebooks.

 “No, I know,” Danny said, looking back down at his PSP. One sniff of the past, and suddenly this wasn’t the real world. His heart used to squeeze in his chest whenever anyone said “London”. Didn’t matter if it was in the break room or on the news. It had taken a long time for that feeling to go away. Now it was back.

 “When are you leaving?” he asked quietly.

 Nicholas closed his eyes briefly. He shut the notebook and tossed it onto the coffee table.

 “I’m not _leaving_ ,” Nicholas said, scooting over to sit beside Danny. He jostled Danny with his elbow, to get his stare away from the game system. “I’m going down to London for a week. Two at most. I know you don’t like it, but -”

 “No, I don’t like it,” Danny said, forcefully.  

 Danny angry was a thing to behold. Nicholas had only seen it a few times, and not since his dad had gone away - that last interview with Frank, before he went to face Lady Justice. Danny had been more angry than Nicholas had ever seen him, until the doors slammed and the transport pulled away. And then, in Nicholas’s office, he had cried.

 Nicholas tucked his arm around him. He squeezed the back of Danny’s neck, and brushed through the close-shorn hair at the back of Danny’s head. “I know, partner.”

 Danny turned toward him. “Sorry, Nic’las.”

 Nicholas kept up the soothing stroke of Danny’s hair, watching the hangdog frown; he could practically feel the wheels churning just under his fingertips. He smiled gently. “It’s not for a while yet. Besides, before I go, we’ve got things to do.”

 “Like what?”

 “Doctor’s appointments. Telling the station about the baby, if they haven’t figured it out already. Telling the Andes.” Nicholas made a little face.

 Danny grinned. “Telling your mum.” The grin faded. “Telling dad.”

 Nicholas put his head on Danny’s shoulder in quiet solidarity.

 Danny turned off his game and set it aside, and felt Nicholas’s hand creeping up the denim on his thigh.

 “You know, something else we should do…”

 * * *

 Danny visited Frank first, two weeks later. The prison was mostly empty when Danny walked into the meeting room. One woman was having a tearful conversation with a small balding man, while a few seats down, a young boy and an older man were regaling a tattooed prisoner on the other side of the glass with tales of their recent fishing trip. Danny smiled softly at the family as he walked past; he knew his own meeting with his father would not go so well.

 Frank was sitting, phone already in hand, face unreadable. Prison had aged Frank; the lines on his face had deepened, and he had bags under his eyes, eyes which seemed darker and sadder every time Danny saw him. Still, he offered Danny his best attempt at a smile when his son sat down. Danny picked up the phone and Frank instantly began talking.

 “Danny, my boy, how are you?” Frank asked, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I was so excited when they told me you were coming in for a visit, I know you usually only come once a month so I expect there’s some reason for this unprecedented visit. I asked if I could bring in some cake from the cafeteria but they said they didn’t trust me with it, whatever that means. Rev. Shooter says they think I’ll try to poison you, but I don’t even know where to get poison, and of course I wouldn’t poison you – the guards, maybe, and my cellmate John, most assuredly – have I told you about John? He came in last month, murdered his wife or mother or someone, and he said –”

 “Dad!” Danny interrupted, knowing full well why Frank was going on like this. Frank stopped talking and frowned at his son.

 It happened every time Danny visited; partially because, he suspected, Frank didn’t really have any close friends to talk to, certainly none who would care to hear about his day-to-day woes about prison life. But mostly Frank talked because he didn’t want Danny to talk. He didn’t want to hear about certain areas of Danny’s life, areas that took up a growing portion of his life as time went on. Basically anything involving Nicholas was a sure way to upset Frank, but of course very little of Danny’s life didn’t involve Nicholas in some way. Danny had hoped Frank’s incarceration would have eventually calmed him down and maybe gotten him the help he needed. Instead, Frank was more resolute than ever that what he’d done, he’d done for the greater good, and he should not be locked up for his crimes.

 “Dad, I’m here cuz I’ve got some news,” Danny told him, ignoring the suspicious look in his father’s eyes. He resisted the urge to look away or fiddle with the phone cord. “Dad, it’s…we’re going…Dad, you’re gonna be a granddad.”

 Frank flinched but otherwise remained stoic and closed off. Danny quickly continued.

 “It’s Nicholas, he’s about two-and-a-half months on, we don’t know the gender yet but it’ll probably be born around February we think,” Danny hurriedly explained. Frank’s face got darker and his mouth twisted from a pout to a very angry grimace; Danny sighed. “Dad, aren’t you happy for u- for me? I’m gonna be a dad; have a kid of my own.”

 For a long moment, Frank sat there, his grip on the phone tightening. Then he spoke.

 “Danny…why did you have to do this?” Frank asked, his voice dripping with disappointment and disgust. “You could have met a nice woman, settled down with her and had a child. Why… _Angel_?”

 His tone on Nicholas’ name was full of hatred and rage; Danny tried to remain calm and understanding, but he couldn’t help but feel his own anger rising. Danny didn’t get really upset about a lot of things, but Nicholas was one of his buttons, and Frank had no problem pushing it repeatedly.

 “This… _child_ …will forever tarnish our good name,” Frank continued. “I mean, before, you could have gotten out, come to your senses, and leave that no good traitor. Now…now I’m afraid it’s too late. Oh, Danny, look how far you’ve fallen without my guidance.”

Danny’s own face now mirrored his father’s in rage, and he held himself back from slamming down the phone right there.

 “Dad, I’m doing _fine_ without your guidance,” he practically spit out. “Nicholas is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and to the town. I love him, and you have got to get it through your head that I’m not going to leave him just cuz it upsets you. He and I are gonna have a child, and it’s up to you whether you’re a part of your grandchild’s life or not –”

 “Danny,” Frank began, but Danny held up his hand and glared at his father. Frank closed him mouth and reluctantly let Danny finish.

 “The only one who’s tarnished our name is _you_ ,” Danny said coldly. He paused, then added, “I might be back next month, if we’re not too busy preparing for the baby. Hope you’ve changed your mind by then.”

 Before Frank could add a word, Danny hung up the phone and signalled to the guard that he was done. He left the room before Frank had been taken away, not wanting to see the look on his father’s face.

 ***

 Nicholas was sitting in the waiting room, flipping through one of his old notebooks from the London case, when Danny came through the doors. He hadn’t wanted Nicholas and the baby anywhere near the foulmouthed prisoners, even though Nicholas had told Danny the baby couldn’t hear anything yet. The look on Danny’s face broke Nicholas’ heart, and he stood up quickly and enveloped his partner in a reassuring hug. Neither had expected the visit to go well, but Danny had insisted he do tell his father in person, and sooner rather than later.

When they pulled apart, Danny looked better, but still unhappy. Nicholas held his hand and squeezed gently.

 "You want to go home?” he asked as they headed out of the dreary grey building, towards their car. Danny shook his head.

 “Nah, I still wanna go to Barbara’s,” he replied. “I need some goodness to wash away the badness, y’know?”

 Nicholas nodded. That had been the logic behind their plan of telling both their parents on the same day: Danny’s first, get it out of the way, then on to Nicholas’ mum’s place for dinner and a likely more jubilant reaction.

 “I’ll drive,” Nicholas said when Danny made to go for the driver’s side. “You just take it easy.”

 “Nicky, I’m fine; I’m not the one carryin’ another person around with me,” Danny replied pointedly.

 “Danny, I’m not going to be able to drive in a few more months,” Nicholas reminded him. “Let me get my fill now.”

 Danny looked like he was about to protest, as he often did lately whenever Nicholas tried to do anything he thought was too straining. Sometimes it was sweet, like when he carried bags of fertilizer out to the garden for Nicholas, but other times, such as when Nicholas tried to do the dishes or vacuum, it was a pain in the arse. This time, however, Danny shrugged and nodded, moving to the passenger’s side.

 The drive from the prison to Nicholas’ mum’s place was slightly longer than usual as they had to double back a bit, then head south. Nicholas’ mum lived in a quiet neighbourhood in Bournemouth, about two hours away from Sandford; she’d moved there shortly after Nicholas’ father had died. The city itself was large and had a good number of retirees for residents, so Nicholas didn’t worry as much about his mother being alone. Unlike Nicholas, Barbara Angel had no problem making friends.

 Nicholas hadn’t even put the car in park before his mother’s front door flew open and she came jogging out. Barbara beamed at the two as Nicholas and Danny got out of the car; Danny quickly went the trunk to grab their overnight bags before Nicholas could make a move, so instead Nicholas turned to his mother who wrapped her arms tightly around him before he could speak.

 “Mum, it’s good to see you,” Nicholas said, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing back.

 “It’s been too long, Nicholas, far too long,” she replied, pulling back and kissing his cheek.

 “It’s only been a few months.”

 “Yes, but I worry about you,” Barbara told him, pulling out of the hug. “You’re a police officer, it’s a dangerous job.”

 Nicholas smiled warmly at his mother.

 “No need to worry,” he told her. “I’ve got the best partner in the world backing me up.”

 As if on cue, Danny came up beside them, a bag in either hand, which he set down on the ground to give Barbara a hug.

 “Oh, Danny, thank you for looking after my boy,” she said as the younger man nearly picked her up off the ground in his enthusiastic hug. He beamed at Nicholas over the top of Barbara’s head; they’d been right to come here. Barbara’s warmth and love was the perfect antidote to Frank’s disappointment and hatred.

 “I’m just so happy he found you,” Barbara continued after they’d parted. Danny quickly picked up the bags before Nicholas could reach for them, giving him a pointed look. Barbara didn’t notice, too busy giving her son a none-too-subtle once over. “Do you know, Nicholas, I think you’ve actually gained weight. It only took three decades and a bit, but you’re finally not looking so sickly.”

 “ _Mum_.”

 “I know, I know, you’re the pinnacle of good health, I’ve heard it all before,” Barbara replied, leading the pair into the house. Danny headed to the guest room to deposit their bags, while Nicholas was made to sit on the couch by his mother, who refused any offers of help while getting the tea ready. Danny joined Nicholas on the couch a moment later and the two exchanged looks. They hadn’t been sure when they would tell his mother, but as with Danny’s dad, it seemed sooner rather than later was the better option; Nicholas didn’t know if Barbara suspected anything, but he knew from past experience that she was good at picking up on subtle signs very quickly.

 After the tea had been set out and served, Barbara sat on the couch opposite her son and his boyfriend. She clapped her hands together and said, “So, tell me all about life in the bustling city of Sandford.”

 Nicholas and Danny exchanged another quick glance, trying to contain their smiles. Then they faced Barbara, who had, as Nicholas had expected, worked out that they had something to tell her.

 “Mum, we…that is, Danny and I, we have some rather big news,” Nicholas started. His hand blindly reached for Danny’s, who quickly took Nicholas’ hand in his. Nicholas’ palms were sweaty and his voice shook a bit; _why was he so nervous all of a sudden?_ “Mum…I’m pregnant.”

 The silence that followed was deafening, so Nicholas quickly continued.

 “And we’ve decided to keep the baby,” he added. “The doctor thinks it will be born around February, so – Mum, what’s wrong?”

 Barbara’s eyes were glistening and she’d placed her hands in front of her mouth so Nicholas couldn’t tell if she was smiling or frowning. Seeing their twin looks of confusion mixed with worry, she hastily wiped at her eyes and let out a laugh, then smiled at Nicholas and Danny.

 “I’m just…I’m happy, very, very happy,” she explained, getting up. She motioned to Nicholas and Danny to do the same, then wrapped them both in a big affirming hug. “You two…you are going to make wonderful fathers.”

 The next hour was spent filling in details and answering Barbara’s questions and making future plans for her to visit them in Sandford. Barbara told Nicholas in no uncertain terms that she would be there the week of the scheduled c-section, whenever that was, and offered – nay, _insisted_ – that she stay with them for however long they needed her afterwards. Danny enthusiastically agreed, while Nicholas tried not to think about how long “however long” could be. He loved his mum, but he didn’t want her moving in with them.

 Once the tea was finished and most of the baby-related conversation exhausted, Danny excused himself to take a shower.

 “Gotta rinse the stench of prison offa me,” he joked. Barbara had been sympathetic though not surprised to hear about Frank’s reaction. Nicholas knew if Danny hadn’t been in the room, she would have unleashed several pounds worth of curses against Frank. Nicholas kissed Danny sweetly on the cheek.

 “You smell fine, Danny,” he told him.

 “Yeah, I know, but I figure you and your mum might wanna have some one-on-one time,” Danny confided, squeezing Nicholas’ arm before heading towards the guest bathroom.

Barbara was busy pulling out food from the fridge in preparation for dinner, so Nicholas busied himself tidying up the living room, grabbing the cups and saucers and washing them in the sink.

 They worked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

 “You know, I really am happy for you,” Barbara commented as she chopped the lettuce for the salad.

 “So you’ve said, repeatedly,” Nicholas replied, smiling over his shoulder at her before turning back to the dishes.

 “Well, I mean it.”

 A pause.

 “I’m just…Nicholas, I was so worried about you,” Barbara confessed, placing the chopped lettuce in a bowl. Neither turned to look at the other, which seemed to make it easier for Barbara to talk. “You never seemed _happy_ , and you didn’t have any friends or a social life. I know there was Janine but – well, you know I never thought that would last –”

 Nicholas choked back a laugh, remembering all too well the awkward dinner conversation and pointed looks his mum had cast him when he’d brought Janine out to meet her. The nicest thing Barbara had to say to him afterwards was “Well…you two certainly have a lot in common.”

 “When you got transferred to Sandford, you just seemed so depressed during our phone calls,” Barbara continued. She had a small pile of carrots in front of her and was trying to focus on cutting them up, but most of her attention appeared to be on what she was trying to tell her son. “I’m not saying I worried about you being successful or healthy or anything like that, but you…you needed someone. A friend, a partner, a spouse, just _someone._ Not to sound like an old romantic, but I truly think you’ve found him. And now…with the baby and everything…it’s just…”

 Nicholas placed the last saucer in the drain board, then turned to face his mother. She was still facing away from him, but she had set her knife aside and was wiping her eyes again.

 “I just wanted you to be happy,” she told him, finally turning around. “That’s all I ever wanted. And I finally think you are.”

 Nicholas blinked back tears of his own, pulling his mother into a hug to hide the fact that her words had moved him so much (though he’d become more emotional as of late, he didn’t think this had to do with hormones).

 “Mum, I am happy,” he assured him. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

 Barbara choked back a laugh.

 “Nicholas, I’m your mother, I’ll always worry about you,” she reminded him, squeezing gently, then pulling away and turning her attention to the carrots. “I’m just not as worried about you as I was. Now, enough of this sappiness; there’s some potatoes in the fridge that need cleaning and peeling. Get to it.”

 Nicholas smiled and opened the fridge. When Danny was done his shower, he also lent a hand, grating cheese and heating pasta sauce, and dinner was soon on the table. The meal was full of conversation, this time focusing on Barbara’s life and the various crimes Nicholas and Danny had to deal with in Sandford. Nicholas’ pills helped him keep the meal down, and he was surprised at how hungry he was. This brought the conversation back to the pregnancy and the baby. Barbara offered to email Nicholas all her tips on dealing with the highs and lows of pregnancy.

 “You know, when I was six months along with Nicky, I became incredibly passionate in the bedroom, if you understand me,” Barbara confided in Danny, loudly enough that Nicholas could hear.

 “ _Mum_ ,” he hissed. “Can we not talk about this?”

 “I just thought Danny should know what he’s in for – ”

“Mum, we are not going to talk about our sex life!”

“Nicholas, the previous hour we were talking about nothing _but_ your sex life! Or the result of it, anyway.”

 “Of for the love of – ”

 “Um, Barbara,” Danny cut in, trying to suppress the grin on his face . “I noticed them petunias you’ve got in your garden out front; we’ve got some at home but they’re wee things. How’d you get yours so big?”

 Nicholas shot Danny a grateful look as Barbara launched into a detailed explanation about fertilizer and vitamins. Nicholas knew from experience that Danny found gardening to be the dullest topic on the planet, but it was also one both Nicholas and Barbara loved.  Danny winked at Nicholas and nudged him playfully with his foot.

 By the time dinner and dessert had finished, and all the leftovers and dirty dishes put away, it was almost midnight and Nicholas was more than ready to sleep. It had been a long day for both he and Danny, and Nicholas expected they’d both be asleep within minutes of getting into bed. Which was why he raised an eyebrow as he felt Danny’s hand creeping up under his shirt.

 “Danny…”

 “Yeah, Nicky?”

 “A) I’m exhausted, and B) we are not having sex in my mother’s house.”

 “Awww.”

 Nicholas could practically hear the pout in Danny’s voice. He opened his eyes and rolled over so that he was facing Danny, then snuggled close to him.

 “Gettin’ mixed signals here, Nicky.”

 Nicholas laughed and lightly shoved Danny, before snuggling back in to him.

 “When we get home,” Nicholas promised. “In our own bed.”

 “Doesn’t have to be the bed,” Danny offered, wiggling his eyebrows in the dark. “There’s the couch, the shower, the kitchen table…”

 Nicholas laughed again. Danny was so unlike him, but his mother had been right: Danny was who he’d needed. Danny made his life fuller and more complete, and far more interesting. He kissed Danny on the jaw, then the neck.

 “Whatever you want, Danny,” he whispered, making a mental note that they would not actually have sex on the kitchen table. It was unhygienic, not to mention unlikely to hold up the both of them.

 They lay still for a moment. The sound of Danny’s breathing began to lull Nicholas to sleep.

 “So…when’re you heading for London?” Danny asked, pulling Nicholas back to reality. He’d been able to catch the tone in Danny’s voice, the fear and the worry and the reluctance to ask in the first place. Nicholas sighed and shrugged.

 “I think they said they’d call with specifics, but right now the trial is scheduled in two weeks,” Nicholas told him. He smiled. “Plenty of time for us to shag each other senseless repeatedly before then.”

 Danny didn’t reply for a moment, and Nicholas thought maybe he’d fallen asleep.

 “I just…I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered. “And I’m gonna worry about you. A lot. London’s no place for a baby.”

 Nicholas smiled softly at Danny, though he probably couldn’t see it in the dark.

 “I… _we_ will be fine,” he reassured Danny, taking one of Danny’s hands and placing it on his stomach. He was barely showing at this point, but Danny loved touching Nicholas’ stomach, eagerly awaiting the day when he could actually feel their child moving. “I’ll text you as much as possible, and I’ll call you every night.”

 Danny nodded, and Nicholas could feel some of the tension leaving his body.

 “Okay,” he said, leaning in and placing a kiss on Nicholas’ lips. “But be careful. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t go chasin’ criminals. Don’t forget to take your vitamins, and take a rest if you get tired, and don’t forget to eat when you’re hungry and drink lots of water, oh, and mind the gap…don’t know what that means, but mind it, Nicholas.”

 Nicholas tried not to laugh, focusing instead on how loved Danny made him feel with his overprotective worrying. He pulled Danny in for one more kiss.

 “I promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

The drive back from Bournemouth - Nicholas driving again, and Danny was still glowing from the kind send-off Barbara had given them - took the same couple of hours. After the heavy traffic and summer construction on the main roads, it was a relief to get on the less-traveled route to Sandford, and they didn’t talk much as the landscape changed from coastal Home Counties sprawl to grey-roofed fields. They reached Sandford in the later evening, just as the lights were springing to life and the pubs were filling up. 

The Crown looked like it was full of the usual beer o’clock crowd, and the smell of frying food drifted out into the street, making it smell like a fete. Danny’s stomach growled at the sudden thought of a pint and something in a paper-lined basket.

“Want to stop in?” Nicholas asked, as if he was reading Danny’s mind, already throwing the signal on and picking a spot at the kerb. 

“What?” Danny looked worried. “Nicholas - you can’t drink.” 

Nicholas snorted but he smiled, to calm Danny down. “I know that. But they do fantastic chips.”

“You like the _chips_?” Danny asked incredulously. 

“I do now. Apparently.” Nicholas looked sheepishly at Danny and shrugged. “What do you say?”

“If you want chips, you want chips,” Danny said philosophically. He’d never seen Nicholas scoff the greasy menu at the Crown, or anywhere else, but he wasn’t about to argue with Nicholas’s hormones. And he never turned down a pint. There’d be a lot less of that once the baby came, anyway. 

Nicholas turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. 

* * * 

In the pub, slouched around one of the tables with pints in hand, Sandford’s finest were deep in discussion re: the latest bout of strange behavior from their Chief. Tony was doggedly in the lead, with the scent of something amiss, Doris was keeping pace at his side with a grin on her face, and Walker and the Andes grudgingly brought up the rear.

Tony summed up the investigation so far. “Whatever’s wrong with the Chief, it’s probably not scurvy, or Black Death, or amnesia -”

“Or blue balls,” Doris chimed in.

Tony nodded to thank her; “Or blue balls.”

“Then what?” Cartwright asked belligerently. 

“Well.” Tony ticked off the clues on his fingers. “Heads for the jakes every time we put the coffee on. Irritable.”

“More’n usual,” Wainwright corrected.

“ _More than usual_ ,” Tony agreed, with emphasis. “Danny was looking worried - then he was walking around with a big grin - now he’s back to looking worried. Chief refuses tea, goes green at the sight of a sandwich. Last time he came out with us after work, he had a cranberry juice. So he’s not feeling well, it’s bad in the mornings, he’s not drinking any caffeine or alcohol…” 

Tony poised, five fingers the air, on the cusp of revelation. He was sure that sounded awfully familiar. But the flint failed to strike, he shrugged helplessly, cleared his throat, and lapsed into silence with a thoughtful frown.

Doris laughed. “It’s obvious, innit?” she said, while the Andes pondered over their pints. 

“Novioust’me,” Walker muttered. 

“Not obvious to me,” Wainwright said gruffly.

“Danny got one in goal.” Doris beamed. 

It percolated for a moment, then the Andes made twin sounds of disgust and Tony set down his glass with a delighted “Ah-ha!” 

Tony congratulated himself. “I knew that sounded familiar! Well, well, well. You know, when my wife was expecting, she was sick the whole time, never stopped, with our youngest. I think that’s why we decided to stop. Could have had a few more, but she felt so wretched, you know, she didn’t want to do it again. Fair enough, who wants to live on soda crackers for nine whole months?”

“Can we talk about something else?” Cartwright interrupted.

Wainwright nodded. “Anything except bloody babies.”

Walker gave a gruff blokeish murmur of agreement. He was too old to have to think about babies, and the Andes - the way they acted - were far too young.

“Look who it is,” Doris said, eye on the pub’s entrance. 

Nicholas and Danny rushed in from the rain and slowed down to have a good stretch after the car journey. Doris leapt up and waved them over. 

 

“Looks like everybody’s here,” Nicholas said, looking past Danny as Danny brushed rain off his collar. 

Danny got the worst of the damp off Nicholas’s coat - didn’t want him catching a cold - and turned and waved back at Doris happily. 

“Good a time to tell them as any, right?” he said to Nicholas, as they crossed the crowded room.

NIcholas hesitated, then gave a quick determined nod.

At the table, Doris kicked a chair out for Nicholas, while Danny took a round. Same again for everybody. He put his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Large chips?”

“Small. And a cranberry juice.”

“Back on the cranberry juice, Chief?” Doris asked with a sparkle in her eye. 

Nicholas shifted primly in his chair as the Andes made a lightly teasing chorus across the table. 

“How’s your mum?” Doris asked, ignoring the guys. 

“She’s well. Thank you.” Nicholas made smalltalk, aware of all the smiles he was getting from Doris and Tony, and the suspicious once-overs from the Andes when they thought he wasn’t looking. 

“I said ‘small’,” Nicholas said, as Danny returned and set a wide basket of chips, a bottle of vinegar, and a mountain of ketchup sachets in front of him. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t have much lunch.” Danny grinned, pleased with himself. He clapped Nicholas on the shoulder and sat down beside him as Nicholas spread a napkin in his lap. 

“You didn’t ask if _we_ wanted chips,” Wainwright complained. 

“Get your own,” Danny shot back. 

Nicholas ate a few of his chips imperiously, above the childish whinging around the table. He caught Danny’s eye. Danny looked about to burst with the news, a big smile on his face and his excitement making him jostle his foot up and down. 

Nicholas cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “I - we - wanted you all to know, I’ll be taking some time off.”

“Yeah, we know. You got your big fancy case down in London town,” Wainwright said, waving his hands as if the spectacle of London, even at this distance, was dazzling to behold.

Cartwright nodded in sarcastic agreement.

Danny touched Nicholas’s back. No pressure, just a touch to signal he was there.

“Paternity leave,” Nicholas said. 

There was a hush

but not for long. 

“Bloody knew it!” Doris declared triumphantly, slapping her hand on the table. She pointed at Tony. “Told you.” And turned her megawatt smile on Danny. “Good job, big guy!” 

“Yes,” Tony said with a smile, “Yes, we had been thinking it was something along those lines. Rather obvious when you look at the clues.” He pushed his pond-lensed glasses up his nose to make his point.

“Ob’verse,” said Walker.

“What, you all knew already?” Danny asked. He sounded almost disappointed. 

“We didn’t,” Cartwright said, leaning back in his chair and looking smug.

Nicholas gave the two “detectives” a long, blinking look. 

“‘Cause we’re not _nosy_ ,” Wainwright said huffily, elbowing Cartwright in the ribs. 

“When are you due, Chief?” Tony asked. 

Danny’s eyes lit up. He liked that phrase. “Yeah, Nicholas. When are you due?” 

“Started showing yet?” Doris asked. “Not just Danny making your pants tight anymore-” 

“Doris!” Danny said, embarrassed - but proud, too. 

Nicholas looked unimpressed at the turn things had taken; all the personal attention and the questions about things that felt private, but he pasted on a smile and tried to relax. These were their friends. “I’m… ‘due’... sometime in February.” 

“Ooh, er,” Doris did some quick mental calculations, “That means it was sometime in May, doesn’t it?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't your anniversary in May?"

Nicholas blushed to the tips of his ears and cleared his throat. Danny gave his knee a comforting squeeze.

“Well, I say, congratulations,” Tony said, cutting through the silliness and raising his glass. Everyone - even the Andes - dutifully clinked glasses and drank to them. 

Danny deftly turned the conversation to the latest scandal of a footie match. That brought the Andes and Walker back into their element, and the barely-intelligible bloketalk started flying thick and fast, with Doris taking the side of the poor defensive midfielder and arguing down Wainwright’s call for him to be drawn and quartered. Nicholas gratefully slunk away from the spotlight and went back to his chips.

Nicholas and Danny stayed long enough for Danny to get a burger and another pint, and then made excuses about the long drive and left.

By that time it had stopped raining, leaving the streets glowing and smelling warmly damp. Nicholas lingered instead of heading for the car. Something had caught his eye; he wandered to the fountain. Streaks of red, blue, and green spray paint was splashed over the plaque on the fountain, blotting out the NWA. Some aspiring artists practicing their craft on public property. Nicholas decided in this case, he didn’t much care. 

Danny followed him to the fountain, where Nicholas was staring at the coins gleaming in the streetlight. Nicholas looked back at him.

“Sorry about that,” Danny said, smiling. 

Nicholas smiled back. “I’m glad they took it so well.”

“Were you worried?”

“A little.”

Danny shrugged, then he slung an arm around Nicholas. “That’s just the way they are. They don't mean anything by it. They love ya, Nicholas.” 

"Hm," Nicholas said doubtfully.

“They do. Maybe not like _I_ do…” Danny slipped his hand down and gave Nicholas a quick feel. A meaningful raise of his eyebrow. 

Nicholas had to laugh. “Let’s go home, partner.”

Danny followed him contentedly to the car. “Hey, Nic’las,” he said, as he opened the passenger door.

“Yeah?”

“Remember last night, you said somethin’ about our own bed?”

* * *

Two weeks sprinted by in a hurry due to a rash of apple theft, chickens vanishing from their coops, and a group of students backpacking through the countryside and documenting their drunken adventures on their ‘phones. The last few images posted to Twitter were dark, blurry, and captured a very stern looking pair of Andes, which were (unbeknownst to the men in question) now making excited rounds on Bigfoot forums. 

The parallel universe of their personal lives kept them busy enough, too, as Nicholas’s round of prenatal appointments kicked off. So, in a familiar-looking turn of events, Nicholas found himself sitting on a paper-covered exam table and fidgeting while Danny contentedly flipped through a magazine. (Danny wasn’t the one eying the stirrups at the end of the table.) 

There was a light knock on the door. Danny eagerly put the magazine down and they exchanged quick smiles. 

“Nicholas - and you must be Danny. I’m Doctor Bhaskar.” 

Doctor Bhaskar was a 40-something woman with a warm and firm handshake, who ran every marathon in driving distance. She wore her black hair up in a tight bun and her presence reacted with anxiety like matter reacts with antimatter. Nicholas liked her from minute one, and as they talked and started the short and uncomplicated hike through his medical history, his nerves melted away. It was obvious they were in good hands. 

They left the office with a choice of due dates for the calendar, a new set of prescriptions for Nicholas, and Danny with a whole stack of pamphlets besides. 

That night, getting ready for bed, Nicholas sighed in relief. “You know what I’m looking forward to?”

“What?” Danny asked around his toothbrush.

“A normal day tomorrow. No doctor’s appointments, no interruptions. Get a lot of paperwork finished. Do some police work.”

Danny grunted his agreement and went back to the bathroom to rinse. He got into bed beside Nicholas and turned off the lights. 

* * * 

Nicholas went for his jog the next morning, determined to make it a normal day. He was just stepping out of the shower in the locker room - the men’s locker room, since the new station finally reflected the police service’s development over the last half a century - when Danny came in to change. 

Nicholas suited up in front of the full-length mirror. He cinched his belt to the usual notch, unconsciously, and then frowned at the tightness of it. “Already?” he muttered out loud. 

“Say something?” Danny asked.

“No.” Nicholas loosened the belt a couple of notches and buckled it. He slipped his stab vest over his head and zipped it resolutely.

He turned around. Danny was slowly doing up his shirt buttons, eyes glued to Nicholas in the mirror. 

Nicholas hooked his thumbs in the shiny belt, looking crisp in his uniform, black and white, clean lines, looking head to toe like a wholesome country copper, and shrugged. “Just a little tight.”

“Can’t tell with the vest on,” Danny said reassuringly. 

Nicholas gave himself a last once-over, and then turned and did the same for Danny, who had finished with his buttons and was tying his tie. 

“You missed one.” Nicholas stepped closer. He closed the button at Danny’s collar, straightened his tie, and gave him a quick kiss. 

Danny was soft and warm and smelled like his sandalwood aftershave. The kiss lingered as Nicholas leaned into it; Nicholas moved his hands from Danny’s collar to his waist and Danny’s lips slid open in welcome. Nicholas remembered kissing Janine - how she would turn away sometimes, all the cool, perfunctory kisses when one of them was in a hurry. They were both in a hurry, all the time. 

And then there was Danny, who took things nice and slow. Always receptive, always there when Nicholas reached out for him. Nicholas dropped the kiss and hugged him. He felt Danny loop his arms around his back unquestioningly. 

“Normal day,” Danny reminded him. “Paperwork. Get the station in order so you aren’t worrying the whole time you’re in London, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas agreed. He pulled himself out of Danny’s arms. He wouldn’t worry about the station too much - Danny would look after Sandford while he was away. Before he left, though, he should get through a few things. Even in a small village, there was plenty to keep them occupied, now that they were policing it right. The pile of paperwork in his inbox would have tempted Mallory to make a go at its south face. 

His train was booked for the day after tomorrow. He would be lying, though, if he said he wasn't having second thoughts. Leaving Danny, leaving the station, and he still wasn't feeling 100 percent. 

Danny could read all that on his face; Danny gave him a smile, because he was never more sure-footed than when he saw Nicholas was shaky. “Come on.”

* * *

The rainy morning passed quickly, with a patrol around the Village in full high-vis jackets and a promise that he would get the payroll done before he left. Danny went to get lunch, and Nicholas went to work on eroding his mountain of paperwork. The quiet of anticipating lunchtime fell over the station, until, one by one, like meerkats on a plain, everyone in the outer office slowly turned their attention to Nicholas’s office window. 

“Should one of us go in?” Tony asked quietly.

“Leave him be,” Doris said. “At least until Danny gets back. Danny’ll sort it out.”

It wasn’t long until Danny came back from the lunch run, sack of sandwiches in hand. He tripped on the metal bin as he came in, because the bloody thing had a mind of its own and liked to lurk in doorways.

“Oi, you big lump. Quiet!” Wainwright said. “You’ll wake the boss.”

“What?” Danny asked, setting the sandwiches down on Tony’s desk. 

Cartwright nodded through the blinds into Nicholas’s office and Danny looked that way. 

Nicholas was seated at his desk, his cheek propped on his fist, a pen resting in his other hand. His eyes were closed. He was fast asleep.

They watched him for a long moment.

Wainwright snorted in disgust. “Christ. Take him home. He’s not doing us a bit of good here.” 

“Yeah,” Cartwright agreed. They were touchy because the weekly stack of payroll stubs was languishing, unsigned, at Nicholas’s elbow while he dozed. “Get him out of here before I charge him with wasting police time.” 

“But don’t _startle_ him,” Wainwright ordered, as Danny went toward the office.

Danny opened the office door, slipped in, and shut it gently in its jamb. He twisted the blinds closed, shutting out out the Andes. 

“Nicholas. Nicky. Hey.”

Nicholas opened his eyes to half-mast. “Hm.”

“I think you’d be more comfortable on the sofa. Lemme take you home.”

Nicholas frowned in sleepy confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked irritably.

“You’re not having a kip at your desk, then?” Danny asked. He sat on the edge of Nicholas’s desk and waited for an answer. He waited a little longer. “Nicholas?”

He leaned over. Nicholas’s eyes were closed again.

Danny shook Nicholas’s shoulder. “Nic’las.”

Nicholas blinked at him stupidly, and then he seemed to remember where he was. He pulled himself more upright. The pen dropped out of his hand. “Sorry. Um.” He wiped at the corner of his mouth. “I was just…”

“Resting your eyes?” Danny asked, amused. Then, less amused: “You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s probably the meds again.” Nicholas rubbed his face, then he shook his head to try to clear it. He snuck a look at the computer’s clock between his fingers. 

He looked at the monitor in front of him, trying to get his bearings. He’d dropped out mid-word. He put his index fingers on the keyboard and jabbed in the rest of the letters. 

“You put in a good morning,” Danny said. “What if you took the afternoon off? Get a proper nap.”

“I’m fine,” Nicholas insisted. He clicked morosely around the desktop. There was an e-mail sitting in his inbox from his mum. He opened it as Danny went to pull the blinds again. 

The e-mail was brief - she was always brief, but loving - a few links to natural remedies for morning sickness, and well wishes.

Sent something for Danny, too. Make sure he checks his email.

“Got an e-mail from mum?” Nicholas asked. 

Danny stopped messing with the blinds and looked at his ‘phone. He clicked, scrolled, and broke   
into a grin. 

Something for the next couple of months. Enjoy yourselves. ;) 

“Heh.” 

“What?”

“Nothin’.” Danny took another discrete look at the page of positions, descriptions, tips and tricks for … intimacy … later on. “Just something for later.”

“You paid us yet, Angel?” Wainwright shouted through the window. “Otherwise, we’re going to the pub!”

Cartwright giggled around his prawn sandwich. 

Danny raised two fingers at them good-naturedly. “Not gonna miss this, are you?” he asked.

Nicholas smiled, but he wasn’t sure. 

* * * 

A lot of things had stopped worrying Danny, after his mum died. After that morning that his dad came in early, instead of his mum, to wake him for school, looking like he had been up all night (he had), dry but empty-eyed. Danny didn’t, as a rule, take things too seriously after that. He didn’t, as a rule, worry.

Except about Nicholas. He was helping Nicholas pack for London - as much forethought and planning as Nicholas liked to put in, usually, he had left it last-minute - and they were talking over the travel arrangements one last time. Because, again, Danny had some concerns.

“Maybe I should drive you down,” Danny said. 

“It’s only a couple of hours on the train.”

“Yeah, but it can’t be good for you.”

“It’s a train, Danny -”

“I’m gonna call them. Just t’ be sure, you know?” Danny said, off the skeptical look on Nicholas’s face.

Nicholas wasn’t going to be party to that conversation, so he went back to shoving socks and pants into his bag. Danny dialed the nurses’ line and Nicholas tried to ignore him. 

“Yeah, it’s me again,” Danny said cheerfully. “Danny. Sandford, right. How’s things, Sarah?”

Nicholas closed his eyes; his partner was on first-name basis with NHS Direct.

Danny was explaining their latest predicament. “All that jostlin’, people with colds, sounds like a bad idea.” 

He listened attentively to the other end. 

“You feeling all right, Nicholas?” he asked. 

Nicholas sighed in exasperation and nodded. 

“Yeah, he says he’s feeling good.” 

Again that focused listening. It carried on for a while. Danny nodded very seriously. Then he thanked Sarah and hung up. He turned to Nicholas. 

“She said, st’istically, cars are more dangerous than trains. Aeroplanes are safest.”

“That’s settled. I’ll fly to London,” Nicholas said, chucking his deodorant into his bag. He said it gently; he didn’t want to hurt Danny’s feelings. 

“As long as you’re feeling okay, it’s fine to take the train.” 

“Great.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t drive any more,” Danny pondered. 

Nicholas’s voice sharpened. “Danny.”

Danny grinned. “Just kidding. Right?”

“Right,” Nicholas said. He moved on from the toiletries to the newly dry-cleaned uniform jacket he had spread out on the duvet. 

Danny took a few of the bleach-white shirts and made sure they were folded in smart creases. “You sure these’ll fit right?”

“They’ll fit.” Nicholas self-consciously smoothed his shirt front. He wasn’t getting _that_ big yet. 

Danny shrugged. As long as his uniform jacket fit, he s’posed, no one would notice. 

Danny put the shirts into the bag, careful of the stiff collars. He took more care with Nicholas’s clothes than he ever did with his own. Partly because he knew Nicholas liked to look tidy, and partly because being careful of Nicholas’s clothes, somehow, translated to being careful of Nicholas. Danny tucked them in the garment bag and put it into the suitcase. 

“Got your vitamins?” Danny prowled around the nightstands, double-checking that nothing had been left behind..“I think you should take your regular pills, too, in case the ginger doesn’t cut it.” Danny fetched the bottle from Nicholas’s bedside table. 

Nicholas had a pile of his mother’s suggestions, ginger oil capsules, a little packet of candied ginger to chew, and a tiny bottle of lemon oil already in his bag. He took the offered prescription bottle and tucked it into one of the side pockets. 

Nicholas zipped his rolling suitcase shut and set it against the bedroom door. He closed his satchel and hung it around the handle, and turned back to Danny, who was smiling at him over the rumpled bed. 

“Hey, Nicky. You feel up to something?”

* * *

A shared shower to save time, Danny dried Nicholas’s hair and shook out his own spikey strands. He gave his own scalp a scrub and pulled Nicholas close to him. He buffed Nicholas’s skin with the towel like a mother cat. Once he started heading south, apparently intending a very comprehensive, chaste job, Nicholas grabbed the towel away and dropped it on the floor. 

He brought Danny against him and let the steam swirl around them. 

Danny pressed up against his mouth and bit his lip, dragged it between his teeth. 

“I know, I know. Stop mollycoddlin’, right?” Danny asked. 

He talked like sleepy rough Gloucestershire, used words that Nicholas had never heard in London - aside from his nan, maybe. Nicholas shifted, tucked Danny’s hardness between his thighs, held him there as they kissed. The steam poured out the bathroom door but with the heat between them rising; they didn’t notice the fine pelt of gooseflesh on their arms and backs. 

Danny sucked gently on his neck and purred in his deep broad chest. He spoke into Nicholas’s ear. “Come to bed.”

Danny had set out the little box of toys. It was a small collection - just a few brown paper-wrapped orders. Some had shown up on the doorstep once Nicholas moved in, but he had a few holdovers from the dark days. The sort of cheap, furtive things you coveted under occupation - the NWA hadn’t even allowed the usual top-shelf magazines in corner shops, though there had been an under-the-counter trade, even under the NWA’s thumb. 

He would know. Nicholas bowed to his expertise. As for the … accoutrements, it had taken Nicholas time to warm up to the idea. He wasn’t even vanilla, he was something like skim milk, a thin unimaginative physicality, missionary and a good long sleep afterward. He’d never thought that was dull, until Danny took the bullet vibrator to him and made him cum so hard he thought he’d pulled something. It was a shot of espresso, a taste of Danny’s (comparatively) imaginative range. Like the schlockiest of Danny’s films, Nicholas was willing to try anything once. 

Danny patted the bed beside him, and when Nicholas sat down, he dropped something in his lap. “Put these on.” 

Nicholas grabbed them. A pair of black leather patrol gloves, new, by the smell of them. They must have cost fifteen pounds. He looked questioningly at Danny.

“Just trying something new. Put ‘em on, see if you like it.”

Nicholas looked doubtfully at the gloves. “Why -?”

“I think you’ll look sexy,” Danny admitted. 

Nicholas’s eyebrows flickered, but he smiled in acquiescence. Danny was worth a pair of gloves. 

Nicholas slid the right glove on and saw Danny’s pupils flare. He flexed his fingers in the stiff new leather and tugged it down tight on his wrist. He did the same with the other and felt a rush as Danny’s eyes lit up.

Nicholas suddenly caught on to the game. He turned to face Danny and patted Danny’s jowl, then ran his thumb across Danny’s lips. He pushed the pad of his thumb into Danny’s mouth to let him smell and taste the supple leather and brushed his mouth again. He took Danny’s face between his oddly cool hands and drew him into a kiss. He put his hand on Danny’s chest and gave him a gentle shove; Danny lay back with a grin. 

(The role wasn’t his, it didn’t really feel like him - but he liked the way Danny was flushing already, and staring up at him eagerly.) 

Nicholas massaged his chest, belly, and his hairy thighs up to the crease of his hips. Danny settled back and enjoyed the show. He liked the contrast between Nicholas’s endless perfect white skin and his hands - beautiful hands, long nimble fingers - encased in black leather like armor, like a second skin. Fuck, he was right - Nicholas _did_ look sexy.

Nicholas wore authority well. It made him chilly, like granite, and just as unfuckably austere. Danny saw it on the job every day, but here it was different. He was concentrating on Danny like the slide under the microscope and Danny felt more than naked. He felt bare. It was having a barrier between them, Nicholas’s look of concentration and the excitement of a stranger’s hands. The gloves were cooler than Nicholas’s skin and Danny had a tight knot in his stomach and an itch, a need - and a bit of old-fashioned curiosity. 

Danny reached over and grabbed the new toy. “Can you put it in?” 

Nicholas glanced it over. A little silver bullet vibrator, housed in velvety silicone, about four inches long and curved at the tip, contoured down to the flared base. Nicholas felt ridiculous holding it, just for a second - but Danny’s sex-dark eyes, the total trust on his face, the undercurrent of excitement swept Nicholas up; he grinned cockily. “When I’m ready.”

Which meant, when Danny was ready. Nicholas pumped a small puddle of lube onto his hand and traced Danny’s balls and the crease of his arse. He started teasing and plying and finally took two fingers and slid them inside. 

The leather gave Nicholas’s familiar, slender fingers new thickness. Danny twisted his hands in the sheets as Nicholas slid them in and out, strong wet glides that spread him apart. Nicholas hooked his two fingers and made a pressing circle with his fingertips; Danny’s stomach clenched and he squeezed up like a vice, holding Nicholas’s fingers in place. 

“Not yet.” Nicholas felt Danny squeezing; he straightened his fingers and some of the hot pressure deflated. 

“Put it in,” Danny said. 

Nicholas picked it up. “Sure?” It was bigger than Danny usually took.

Danny never cared to bottom and he mostly liked Nicky’s fingers. He grunted. “I wanna try it.” 

Nicholas rolled the condom on and lubed it up, and gently played the blunt tip around Danny’s entrance. He turned the vibration on and traced the bridge of skin between Danny’s legs, was rewarded with a few quick gasps and a roll of Danny’s stomach as he tried to stay still. Nicholas kissed one knee, then the other. He used his gloved fingers to stretch him out again, a gentle half-circle sweep, top and bottom, that made Danny’s hips rise off the mattress. 

Nicholas twisted more gel on the plug and finally started toying with the ring of muscle. He had gotten Danny relaxed and loose, he slipped the tip inside almost without meaning to. The neck of it went in easily, no resistance, just a drawn-in breath and a content, full, satisfied groan from Danny when Nicholas got it seated. 

“Too big?” Nicholas asked.

“Nah, ‘s perfect,” Danny said. 

Nicholas rolled it slowly, bringing the curved tip around until he heard Danny gasp. He didn’t know what he was doing, but Danny’s face and chest were flushed and he was fully hard, all seven inches of him, balls already tight against his body. Nicholas felt out the little button and turned it on. 

Danny’s spine arched. “Shit, Nicky, yeah…”

Nicholas turned up the vibration a notch and pulled the shaft back an inch, slid it back in to the flared end. Again. He started a firm rhythm, leaving the vibration low and steady while he worked in time with Danny’s hips. 

Danny groaned and instinctively reached for his own cock. He palmed it and stroked himself as Nicholas plied with the shaft, trying to circle the tip gently on the bundle of nerves. It sounded like he was doing something right, the way Danny’s chest was working like bellows. 

Nicholas squeezed a little more lube onto his gloved palm. He pushed Danny’s hand aside to twist up in the blanket and took over, stroking and squeezing him. Danny squirmed against the vibrator that was wedged inside, hitting him just right with every little jostle of his hips, like electricity ramping up. Nicholas picked up his pace, sliding Danny through the warm and slick leather, putting pressure near the base of his shaft and pulling it up toward the head. Danny finally came, spurting without a lot of warning against his and Nicholas’s stomachs. Nicholas wrung the last shudders out of his body with a loving hand and reached for the bath towel that had gotten tangled in the proceedings.

Nicholas peeled his gloves off and dropped them off the edge of the bed. He had almost come watching Danny, but not quite. He was still hard, and not sure where to put his hands. Finish up? The awkwardness cooled him off a little.

Danny, slothful after a long, rolling cum, was quickly coming back to life. He pulled himself up to bring Nicholas close for a kiss. “Don’t worry, Nicky. I ain’t done with you.”

Nicholas’s cock twitched again at the huskiness of Danny’s voice. He searched Danny’s eyes. 

Danny grinned his turn-toothed grin. He reached toward the pillow and yanked out a strip of black cloth; one of their ties, probably one of Nicholas’s. 

“I’ve got a little surprise,” Danny explained, slowly winding it between his hands. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas agreed. Anything once. 

Nicholas watched Danny’s face as the tie came down. The world went black as the cool band of cotton settled on his eyes. Danny’s fingers secured it behind his head. Danny kissed him to keep them connected, and told him to get comfortable. Nicholas lay back, stretched out, and a shiver of anticipation went through him. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Nicholas listened hard for any hint of what Danny was up to. He heard a plastic cap flip open. 

“What’re you doing?” Nicholas couldn’t help asking.

“You want to know?” Danny asked. 

Nicholas groped out the blankets and decided to be patient. “No.”

He waited. He felt Danny crawl up the bed toward him. Danny kissed him and tickled his lips with his tongue. Nicholas craned his neck to follow Danny’s mouth when he pulled away, but Danny’s warm hand braced his chest and kept him flat. 

Another moment of nothing. Nicholas swallowed. 

A drop of something cold landed on his nipple and he jumped. Danny’s hand pressed down on his chest and then Danny’s tongue swept in, wiping away the cold before it could sink right through to his heart. 

Before he had caught his breath, a bigger smear of cold, across one nipple then the other, and Danny’s tongue followed. Nicholas arched into the feeling; Danny sucked one bud into his mouth, teased it with his tongue; Nicholas’s cock got tight and hot with blood. There was a faint smell of vanilla and more a smell of Danny, sweating, and the feel of his lips. 

More of whatever it was, slippery, made Danny’s fingers glide across his skin effortlessly. Danny left his nipples aching with need and made a little trail down his chest, across his stomach, and following with his flattened or prodding toying tongue and and kisses and bites. He ran his finger around the rim of Nicholas’s navel and painted his lower belly too, like a baptism, and went down until Nicholas could feel Danny’s scratchy cheek against his inner thigh and Danny was settling between his legs. 

Danny started slow. A little of the stuff went a long way - a dab on his tip, licked away, a delicious cold line up the underside and Danny’s tongue following right behind. 

Danny pumped him in his hand and put him in his mouth. He started really _sucking cock_ , there was no pretty way to put it, swallowing Nicholas with the wetness from his swollen lips and the feel of his strong tongue. He was so bloody good at it - Nicholas's body contorted, he grabbed at Danny's hair with both hands, helplessly, panting out small moans that got louder the more Danny worked at him, lavishing licks over the shaft and curling up under his head, and Nicholas keened out loud. 

Nicholas heard Danny laugh. He peeled the blindfold up from his eyes and looked at Danny, grinning and framed between his knees. 

“What’s so funny?” Nicholas felt himself blushing.

“Never heard you make that sound before.” Danny’s eyes sparkled.

Nicholas ripped the tie off his head. He wanted to watch Danny. He wanted to see - everything.

Danny smiled at him again, then turned his head and kissed the inside of Nicholas’s thigh. He kissed the other, rubbed his big hand up the slope of Nicholas's leg to his knee. He pulled Nicholas toward him hungrily, splaying his hips wider, and ducked his head. 

Danny buried his face between Nicholas’s legs, closed his eyes and rubbed his closed lips over Nicholas’s balls, breathing in the sweet and sweaty musk of arousal. Nicholas was shivering like crazy. His skin didn’t feel cold; Danny kissed his stomach and hip bones and rubbed his legs again, to calm him, and turned his attention back to Nicholas’s beading, running cock. 

Rhythm. Long sucks. Nicholas’s own fingers on his chest, pinching his nipples, lines of molten lead coursing down to his groin. His hips wrenched and bucked, his arse clenched, bringing him up to meet Danny. Danny got more traction with his elbows, raised himself to get Nicholas in deep. He swallowed around him and felt Nicholas lose it - all that careful tight pent-up everything bursting, and Nicholas flooded his mouth, once and then again, one hand spasming in Danny’s hair as he came. 

Danny quickly cleaned him off with a last rasp of his tongue, and then hugged Nicholas’s body, resting his cheek on Nicholas’s stomach and just holding him tight for a moment, close for the aftershocks. 

Nicholas flopped back, threw his powerless arms above his head, exhaled a cleansing breath. 

Danny patted his hip. “Stay there.”

Danny rolled gingerly out of bed and went to the bathroom to clean up and get a glass of water. He pulled on a clean pair of shorts and got back into bed next to Nicholas. 

Nicholas’s eyes were hooded with half-sleep. He had pulled the sheet up around his hips, leaving his chest and stomach to the warm air. An August breeze was rifling the curtains and ghosting over their skin; Danny snuggled up closer and touched Nicholas’s chest, still glistening with sweat but rising and falling evenly. He barely brushed one nipple and it obstinately got hard again. 

Nicholas growled lightly. Danny moved his fingers across his sternum to the downy plain of his belly. 

Nicholas had a runner’s body, with slender muscles that twitched and sprinted - not a lot of definition, just a bottomless reserve of quiet, healthy power. Danny liked that he was a little soft. (And a little cuddly - when the mood and the light were right, and there was nothing else going on.)

His fingers plied Nicholas’s stomach gently, thinking about the baby, trying not to think how Nicholas was leaving. His hand stopped, trailed back up, palpitating just below his navel. There was a firm, rounded little bulge there, different than lean muscle or the couple extra discrete pounds he carried.

“Oh, wow," Danny said.

"Hm?"

"You can feel it.” His voice went quiet with awe. 

Nicholas smiled sleepily. “Yeah.”

“It been movin’ yet or anything?” Danny asked, stroking his skin reverently, testing the contours very very gently.

“Not yet.” Nicholas looked down at Danny’s hand on his stomach. “When I come back, we’ll pick the day. Okay?” 

Danny broke into a smile. He had the doctor’s dates pencilled in his desk planner and on his ‘phone. He wanted to ink one in, but Nicholas hadn’t been very keen to talk about it so far, and Danny hadn’t wanted to push it. “Okay.”

Nicholas looked down, feeling awkward.

Danny fit his hand protectively over Nicholas. “You’ll take it easy, right? Don’t let them upset you. Don’t go after any drug dealers on your own. Call me when you can.”

“Every night,” Nicholas promised again. 

“Good,” Danny said. He pulled up one corner of his mouth. Two weeks was a long time. 

The open window filled the room with the smell of deep summer, leaves and grass respiring from the week’s rainstorms. Another full gust of wind that brushed the curtains aside and brought back memories of that night in May, when they were skin to skin under the stars. 

Nicholas wrapped them together, to remind Danny he wasn’t gone yet. Suddenly neither of them felt like sleep.They curled up and listened to the crickets and silence in the country dark.


	6. Chapter 6

The Met stocked their witnesses in hotel rooms around central London. Nothing five-star, four-star, or even three-star, but it could be worse. They could have put him back at Peel House, with its shared showers and footballs bouncing down the corridors all hours of the night. Nicholas got to his hotel at quarter after five, checked in, and took the small lift up to the sixth floor. 

He said he’d call Danny as soon as he got checked in. He dumped his full suitcase on the bed and clicked Danny’s contact as he went to the window.

Danny picked up in two short rings and asked, in a thick West Country burr, “How’s the city, soir?”

Nicholas exhaled as he moved aside the curtain and gauged the traffic crawling by below. “Busy.” 

He turned away from the window and explored the hotel room. It had a recycled, shrink-wrapped feel, with its sharp-folded bedspread, plastic-wrapped drinking glasses, old boxy television, and ice bucket. He wrinkled his nose. He felt awfully far from Sandford. “How’s the station?”

“Still here,” Danny said. “Runnin’ like clockwork. Good journey? You didn’t let anybody sneeze on you, did you? Wash your hands after touching the rails and door handles. Those are some of the dirtiest things… Never know what you might pick up in the city...”

Someone had been back on the nurse’s line. “I got here in one piece. No plagues so far.”

“None you’ve _noticed_. But first sign of anything weird, get outta there. Keep your eyes open.” Danny’s tone got serious. “What’s happening tomorrow?” 

Nicholas sat down on the bed to test its firmness - too soft for his taste - and pried off his shoes with his toes. “Meeting with our side tomorrow morning. All the barristers. Just logistics. Then lunch with Janine.” 

“Janine. Oh yeah. The one with the deep voice.”

“No?” Nicholas said, confused. 

Danny brushed it off with a laugh. “Nevermind, Nic’las. Little hand says it’s only six o’clock. What're you doin’ tonight?”

Nicholas stretched out on the scratchy duvet and stared up at the ceiling. “There’s probably something on telly.” 

“Probably a _Taggart_ you can shout at,” Danny agreed. “Or you could, you know. Go out.” 

“Go out?” Nicholas asked doubtfully. 

“Yeah. I mean … enjoy being back in London, Nicholas. I know you’ve missed it. Might be good to take a walk, go someplace you know.”

Nicholas made a noncommittal sound along with the shrug Danny couldn’t see. 

“If you’d sat in your room and moped that first night in Sandford, we wouldn’t’a met, would we?” 

Nicholas smiled in agreement. (Danny was blithely oblivious, to this day, that he might not have made a great first impression.) Then the wheels turned. “We’d have met at work,” he pointed out. 

“Oh yeah,” Danny realised. He chuckled at himself. “Well, y’know what I mean. Do some catching up, yeah? Have some fun. Sandford’ll be here when you get back.”

(In Sandford, Danny ignored every single butterfly in his stomach. They had stupid little voices: _Don’t get too comfortable. Don’t have too much fun. Don’t forget about me._ )

Nicholas said it had better be, and then with the ‘phone bill in mind, he and Danny rang off. 

Nicholas stared at the unfamiliar ceiling for another minute. He pushed himself up and rubbed his socks against the thin strange carpet. The traffic outside was steady. 

Nicholas slipped on a light jacket in case of rain. He took the lift down and stood on the busy pavement. At this hour the businessmen were replaced with a younger set, and government cars with cabs. He started walking, reacclimating himself, like a traveler getting his sea legs. 

Lots of traffic, lots of people. He wandered around like a tourist, soaking up the bodies and noise, looking at familiar landmarks, and waiting for a sense of homecoming. 

There was a place a few streets away that did fantastic vegetarian burritos. He thought about it, then thought better of it. He stopped and picked up soda crackers for his stomach and went back to the hotel for an early night. 

* * *  
Most of the legal team remembered him from times past. He was nobody’s favorite. Nicholas had a reputation for being scrupulously honest on the stand - _commendable, in its way, Inspector Angel, but one shouldn’t forget, scrupulous honesty sometimes helps the defence more than the prosecution._

They were all on the same side, for once, prepping for showtime. The Hartley case had made headlines during its first run, and the press were just as interested in the encore. It had a lot of flash - arms-selling, links to the drug trade, and the centerpiece was Charles Hartley, a pudgy, pasty sort, stuffed into his suit so he looked a bit like a sack of oatmeal flour, who happened to have screwed the Triads and murdered a young woman after a bad night at his club. 

His favoured lackey, Donny Kos, was currently sitting behind bars with Hartley, and also up for appeal. Kos’s car had been used to transport the body. He had led them on a high-speed pursuit, crashed, and Nicholas got there first, snatching the distinction of informing Kos of his rights. When Kos went down, the story ran above the fold, headline, photos, and prominent quotes from one Ofc. Angel throughout.

History was getting ready to repeat itself, with Hartley and Kos and a new headline: **KEY WITNESS RECANTS**. She had been fourteen years old at the time, and now, seven years later, she’d done a 180 with her story, casting doubt on Kos's involvement just in time for his appeal. They suspected a buy-out from Kos’s people. Nicholas had been the one to take her statement that night, and called in the pursuit of Kos when he fled. 

Nicholas sat and listened intently, scribbling in his notebook as the barrister laid his role out for him. Two days on the stand, expect a lot of push-back from the defence. They’ll be prodding, trying to dig out the foundation. Just stand firm, stick to what you wrote in the reports. It sounded simple enough to Nicholas. He left the meeting feeling certain of himself. 

Janine had texted the address of a little cafe just around the corner from the Yard. Nicholas left the barristers’ offices and started walking, through the heart of London, along the Thames. 

Janine was waiting for him. They grabbed coffee and sandwiches - just water with lemon and a salmon salad roll for Nicholas, coffee and hummus with olive tapenade for Janine - and found seats at a table near the window. 

Neither of them were avid people-watchers, at least not in the social sense. Nicholas scanned the street periodically, because total awareness was part of his job, while Janine’s grey eyes studied him. Nicholas was digging in; he hadn’t realised how hungry he was. They made polite small talk that quickly turned familiar as they relaxed. 

“How _is_ Sandford?” Janine asked curiously, sipping her coffee. “Out there in the country. It must be so… _Dibley_. Don’t you ever get _bored_?”

“I found enough to keep me busy,” Nicholas said. 

The sudden warmth in his voice gave it all away. Janine smiled knowingly. “Last time we talked, you were making a lot of decisions,” she said, ready to listen. 

Nicholas had missed this. He and Janine had been friends before they had been lovers; they were finally friends again. He could talk to Danny, but the relief of talking to a friend, an uncomplicated friend, someone on the outside, was something he didn't get very often. Just being able to think out loud, get it all straight in his own head. 

“Danny and I held off for a while. We knew we wanted to be together, but there was a lot going on. It took him time to get back on his feet, and with rebuilding the station, half our officers on the injured list... it was like manning a lifeboat, with people still in the water.”

"I read about it," Janine said.

She hadn’t read about Danny’s long recovery, uncomfortable nights in hospital chairs, getting Danny’s cottage cleaned top to bottom before he came home - and going back there after work, too tired to go to his own place, falling asleep beside Danny, the two of them sharing the bed with dirty dishes and baskets of clean laundry. 

Janine saw the look in his eyes and focused him. “What’s he like?” 

“He’s funny. He likes bad movies. He never takes things too seriously - except when it matters. We met on the job and… you know, at first, I didn’t like him.”

Janine laughed.

"He doesn't give up." Nicholas admired that. He was so _grateful_ for that. “He puts up with me.”

Nicholas stopped; his throat got tight. Start him talking about things he loved, and it was like opening a valve. It started as just a trickle, and then an unexpected crash that caught even Nicholas by surprise. He swallowed, collected himself, shrugged self-consciously. The Andes would piss themselves laughing if they could hear him now. “I know, it all sounds...”

“He makes you happy,” Janine said. 

Nicholas met her gentle smile. 

“Now, go on, tell me the sex is amazing,” she said.

Nicholas laughed, short and pointed. 

“You dirty dog. He sounds incredible.”

Nicholas glanced down at the tabletop, awkward, but he kept smiling. He felt giddy, like on a first date. “We’re having a baby.”

Janine’s eyebrows flickered in surprise, and then she smiled warmly. “Aw, that’s lovely, Nicholas. Really. When is he due?”

Nicholas shook his head. 

“ _Nicholas_ ,” the other shoe dropped; Janine congratulated him, and tried to think of something better up to the task: “Look at you. Congratulations.”

“February,” Nicholas said, falling back on bare facts because he wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Congratulations,” she said again. 

She sat back, eyed Nicholas, sighed in relief and shook her head. “I’ve asked myself, did we make the right decision? I think we did.” She grinned ear to ear. “Seeing you now - I know we did.” 

Nicholas smiled his agreement, with a slight hesitation. “If I could do it again, I wouldn’t miss your dad’s funeral. I’m sorry.”

Janine shrugged, to say it was what it was. “I know daddy understood. He was an old cop, Nicholas.”

“He was a good man,” Nicholas offered.

“You didn’t come all the way to London for an over-priced sandwich and water under the bridge,” Janine said perceptively, settling forward and loosely crossing her arms on the table.

“No,” Nicholas admitted. He leaned over and dug into his case, and pulled a few notebooks out. He laid them on the table. “Do you remember the Hartley case?”

* * *

Danny had a few things he wanted to get ready for Nicholas. Tony volunteered, which left Danny to ask, cajole, and beg the Andes to come by on their day off. He finally bargained, and promised to schedule them both an off day for the next Cheltenham match. They showed up at Nicholas and Danny’s at ten sharp, wearing civvies and their usual frowns. 

Danny showed them upstairs, to a room on the east side of the house, stuffed with a lot of old furniture. It was fusty stuff; a full bedroom set from his nan, a marble-topped reading table, and a few boxes - way back in the corner, where Nicholas never saw ‘em - still packed from his first move. 

Tony and the Andes looked over the musty tangle, as Danny fought with the blinds to let in a little more light. “Nicholas wants to use this as the nursery, but we have to move this stuff out. Yeah? Can’t do any painting with it in the way. The bed’s solid oak, these massive drawers -” 

Cartwright muttered someone about Danny’s massive drawers. Danny pretended not to hear him. “We get all this stuff to the basement today, I’ll buy you a massive Indian. There’s beer in the fridge.” 

The Andes took on the brunt of the work so they could complain the loudest, but one by one every ancient piece of solid oak furniture got pivoted and hefted and dragged down two flights of steps into the basement. They took a break around lunchtime, in the kitchen, with sandwiches and a second round of beers. Tony sat at the counter and opened a kitchen cabinet with the toe of his shoe, let it swing shut, pried it open again. “You mean to babyproof the house, don’t you?”

“Baby-proof?” Danny asked, as he dumped more crisps into a bowl. 

Wainwright grabbed a another greasy handful and started chewing loudly.

“Just to protect the lil’un from the odd accident,” Tony explained over Wainwright’s crunching. “Louise and I think people go overboard, ourselves."

Danny paled, thinking of the sharp corners on the coffee table, the treacherous drop of the stairs, and the electric-chair wall sockets. Tony was right. The house was a complete deathtrap. How stupid of him not to see it before. It was amazing they weren’t all dead. He made an executive Acting-Chief decision. "Tomorrow we're going to the shops."

* * * 

Nicholas and Janine occupied the table at the cafe until almost nightfall, walking through their involvement with the case step by step. Janine had been a junior crime scene technician at the time, responsible for not much more than making sure there were enough evidence baggies and sterile swabs to go around. He had always valued Janine’s eyes, ears, memory as much as his own. Catching up with her, walking through the case with someone familiar, would give him a full clip of ammunition when he was on the stand. 

When they were finished Janine congratulated him on everything: on Danny, the promotion, the baby, told him again how happy she was, and how happy she was for him, and they shook hands - no stilted kisses or awkward hugs, just the comfortable professionalism that had always been their strong suit.

He got dinner on the way back to the hotel, showered, called Danny, called it a night. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow’s interview at the Yard. 

* * * 

New Scotland Yard was a reflective glass cube on a narrow strip between Broadway and Victoria Street, which ran east right to Parliament and the river. Nicholas got off the train at St. James’s Park and made his way to the main entrance, which was flanked by steel bars and concrete barricades. 

Nicholas got a very broad smile from the desk sergeants, who gave him his his visiting officer pass. He clipped it to the front of his uniform and made sure it was precisely even. He turned down an escort and made his way briskly down the shining halls to the lifts. The smell of toner, locker rooms, and lemon floor wash was familiar. So was the noise. 

Nicholas took a well-remembered shortest path through the steel and glass maze. As he went, he got the feeling he was being watched. Heads poking out of offices and above cubicle divides like meerkats. Glances behind his back. He kept getting smiles and nods, exaggerated ones, sharkish and Stepford. He returned them all wanly. 

The department had the same cube-farm layout, with big windows pouring in sunlight and cheap over-vacuumed carpeting.

When he approached, the constable at the desk looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Nicholas -” he clocked the stars on Nicholas’s shoulders and shot to his feet. “Inspector,” he said. 

Nicholas shifted his hat under his arm. “Tell the sergeant I’m here for our nine-fifteen.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The constable went to the frosted office door, stuck his head in, and took some instructions with a nod. 

“Just a moment, Inspector Angel,” the constable said apologetically, gesturing to the bank of chairs in the waiting area. 

Nicholas sat himself down and ran his eyes around the room. He glanced at the desks. A lot of stares instantly dropped back to the keyboards in front of them. 

The constable tiptoed over to him. "Some water, Inspector?" he asked in a hush.

"No, thank you," Nicholas said guardedly.

The constable hemmed. He already had a tiny paper cup in his hand. He shoved it toward Nicholas. "Well - keep it, in case you’d want it later."

Nicholas took the cup stoically.

The clock ticked. Nicholas glanced over his shoulder. Same department, same chairs, same paperclips, same shades. His eyebrows crushed together with sudden distress as he took in the window ledge, and all the withered, brownish curls that had once been beautiful plants. He had inherited them like the class pet, brought them back from undernourished little shoots. No one had taken care of them. He frowned and felt the cool cup of water in his hand. He sprang up and started across the waiting area -

“Nicholas!”

The voice was an oil slick of cheerfulness. Nicholas turned around.

“Nicholas Angel, the very man.” Bubbling like a tar pit. Nicholas abandoned the cup on the windowsill as the sergeant crossed the distance, grabbed his hand, and pumped it eagerly, then dragged Nicholas back toward his office. “Come in, come in.”

The sergeant held open the office door for him and guided him through with the eager condescension of a driver helping a pensioner off a bus. He waved Nicholas to the chair in front of his desk, took his own seat, and leaned forward, hands clasped. 

He surveyed Nicholas with a goggle in his eye and a tiny smile on his lips, like a mad aunt. 

Nicholas stared back.

The sergeant grinned a megawatt smile. “So, Nicholas. When’re you due?”

“I’m sorry?” Nicholas asked, grimacing in surprise. 

“Hard to keep a secret like that very long - you had lunch with Janine, didn’t you - congratulations, _well done you_. Good work. Good work with the old, uh, the old...” the sergeant made an awkward and possibly obscene gesture with his hands; Nicholas tilted his head like a confused bird. “Well done you, and well done - whoever!” the sergeant finished. 

Before Nicholas could speak, the sergeant hit a button on his intercom. “I think the inspector wanted to congratulate you -”

“That’s not necessary,” Nicholas tried, but the sergeant was already bleating for the inspector into the intercom at top volume. 

The door swung open instantly, and Nicholas closed his eyes in resignation. 

“Nicholas! I hear congratulations are in order!” The inspector had a broader voice than his colleague, with deep valleys of smarm and a twist of rubbing you exactly the wrong way. Nicholas’s skin crawled. 

“The Hartley case -” Nicholas tried again, shaking off their chorus, trying to forge ahead. 

“Do you want me to call the Chief Inspector down?” the inspector asked. “I know he’d _love_ to see you.”

“No, I don’t want you to call the -”

“Splendid idea, splendid,” the sergeant agreed, interrupting again, and he and the inspector both babbled at each other like an idiot brook. 

Nobody picked up the phone. Right over Nicholas’s head, loud enough to wake the resting dead: 

“ _Kenneth!_ ” 

Nicholas jumped halfway out of his chair, and finished climbing to his feet alongside his enthusiastic tormentors as the Chief Inspector entered. 

“Sit down, Nicholas, take it easy,” the Chief Inspector said, giving Nicholas a paternal pat on the shoulder as he joined them in the office. He exerted a little pressure until Nicholas sank into the chair. “Such happy news.”

“ _Happy news_ ,” the inspector repeated in ecstasy. 

“Thank you. Sir.” Nicholas eyed them all, grinning like choreographed sharks. 

“We are awfully, _awfully_ happy for you A little Officer Angel running about. What do you think about names?” the Chief Inspector asked, gripping Nicholas’s shoulder again. 

“Piper,” the sergeant suggested enthusiastically. “Amanda. Darlene?”

“---” Nicholas opened his mouth, but what he had to say really didn’t matter at all.

“Could be a boy,” the inspector pointed out. 

“Christopher. Michael.” 

Nicholas fixed his stare on the middle distance.

“I’ve always been partial to _Kenneth_ ,” the Chief Inspector said, his fingers gripping just a bit tighter on Nicholas’s shoulder. 

“ _Lovely_ name,” the inspector agreed breathlessly.

Nicholas’s stone-faced glower didn’t flicker. “We haven’t thought of names yet. Sir.” 

“Good, good. Just something to keep in mind.” A beatific smile on his vulture beak. He stole the sergeant’s chair and they flanked him, all but fanning him as they brought over stacks of files from the cabinets. The Chief Inspector smirked. “Now, Nicholas. The Hartley case. Imagine a bastard like that up for appeal.” 

* * *

"Do we need these?" Danny asked. He and Tony were spending their lunch break in the baby proofing aisle. With Tony’s learned guidance and new-parent paranoia as his muse, Danny had a basket piled high with soft corners for tables and counters, plastic latches for cabinets and the toilet seats, child-proof caps for bottles, and six baby gates in a haystack. He had crib bumpers, double-sided velcro, and non-slip mats for in the shower, because it was Danny’s position that even before the baby came, Nicholas couldn’t be too careful.

“We need some of these down the station, too,” Danny said, dragging another couple of non-slip mats off the shelf. He held one up in each hand. “For the locker room. Do you want the froggies, or the turtles?”

Tony adjusted his glasses and looked seriously at Danny’s offerings. “Hm... The frogs. Match the walls better.”

Danny nodded and threw them into the basket. 

* * * 

“Your turn on the stand tomorrow?” Danny asked. He was sat in the living room, sorting through his and Tony’s haul. He had already put up and then tripped over a baby gate, and decided to take it slower. The room upstairs was cleared out, now they could really get _organised_. 

“Yeah.” 

“Nervous?” Danny asked. He was making a pile of electrical sockets caps. Did they have more than a hundred sockets in the house? Maybe he should have grabbed a few more…

Nicholas thought about his answer a little too carefully. “No.” The team had rehearsed, he had done his homework, gone back through the paperwork and living memories. “Nah.”

“You’ll do fine,” Danny said. He made sure he sounded enthusiastic. It didn’t seem like the right time to ask what he really wanted to - how’s it going? what’s happening? do you miss me? “You’ll do good.”

“I’ve done this before,” Nicholas said, as if that was that. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it - he never did when he was really worked up about something. Liked to chew it over in his own head. 

Danny didn’t press him. “Get to sleep,” he said cheerfully. “Early day tomorrow.”

Nicholas said goodnight and Danny settled in with a few cans. Getting the alcohol out of the house was top of the baby-proofing list, after all...

* * *

Nicholas pulled his pillow restlessly. He was used to a comfortable warm dip in the mattress beside him, pulling him in. Danny’s specific gravity. Without it, he felt unmoored. Alone.

He turned the television on low, just for noise inside the quiet room, and tried to count sheep. Mr. Herriot’s stolen sheep. Him and Danny, Doris, the Andes, all of them out at the paddock following tractor treads from the road to the fence, and down to the Trotter farm, where they found a suspicious number of sheep chewing on the grass next to his pigs. 

Outside, two cars got into a shouting match. The ginger oil wasn’t doing much for his stomach. He got up for a drink of water and nibbled on his pack of stale crackers. 

Instead of good sleep, he got in few hours of catnapping and half-dreaming, something about Danny. It usually was, when he could remember them. He woke up to his alarm feeling like shit scraped on the kerb. Sluggish, dizzy, nauseous. He got upright and stumbled through dressing, hoping looking presentable might make him feel more presentable. No such luck.

Nicholas rinsed his mouth and the sink, and looked at himself in the mirror. He took a deep, calming breath, and tried to ignore how pale he was. “Is this your way of telling me you miss daddy, too?”

He instantly felt silly. He knotted up his tie, almost gagged when he closed it snug against his throat. He pulled it loose, doused a towel in cold water, and held it on the back of his neck. He concentrated on the cold and breathing evenly. He just needed ten minutes and this would pass. 

His ‘phone buzzed angrily, signalling that the car was out front. 

* * * 

“Officer Angel -” the defence began again.

“Inspector,” Nicholas interrupted. They were forty-five minutes into the cross examination, and Nicholas knew the man was doing it on purpose.

“You were demoted two years ago. What happened?”

“I wasn’t ‘demoted’,” Nicholas said icily. “I was transferred.”

“To Sandford, Gloucestershire.” The defence was a tall, powdered telegraph pole with a 30k watch like a manacle on his scrawny wrist. He glared down his impressive nose at Nicholas. “I think we all know that’s not a lateral move.”

Really playing it up for the jury. Nicholas set his mouth firmly, refusing to rise the the bait. The prosecuting barrister rescued him, or tried to: 

“Objection. The witness’s service record is not on trial.”

“We’re trying to get a feel for the state of affairs. Officer Angel was a high flyer, and suddenly, overnight, he’s packed off to the country. My client has been sitting in Brixton for seven years, My Lord. I think we deserve to know a little more about why Officer Angel - who played such a large part in events that night - why he was suddenly, unceremoniously, banished to darkest Gloucestershire.”

Nicholas looked into the jury’s faces, gauging their sympathy. They were shutting him out. He tried to win them back: “I followed every guideline. She was frightened. We didn’t have time.” 

“Not enough time to check your facts? Not enough time to call in appropriate personnel to talk to a scared young woman?” 

“Everything is in the report. Sir.” Nicholas lashed out. “The suspect was fleeing. Innocent people don’t run.” He saw the jury’s skepticism. “DS Tyler stayed with the witness, I called in the pursuit.”

“Innocent people might run, if they’re being chased,” the barrister pointed out. 

“We had Kos under surveillance for months. We had a man inside. We had every cause to detain him.” 

“Circumstantial evidence of the thinnest broth. Officer Angel, isn’t it true that when you called in the pursuit that night, all you had was a statement from a fourteen year old girl, who was as frightened of you as she was of Kos.” 

“I conducted myself, and the questioning, within every established guideline.” He had done nothing wrong. All he had to do was present the bare facts, hold his composure. He wanted to wipe his forehead where the sweat was beading, but he didn’t dare.

The council for the defence harrumphed thoughtfully at the jury, as if they were thinking the same thing he was, and pivoted back to Nicholas. Amateur dramatics. 

“And you were on hand during her testimony,” the barrister said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes.” 

“Do you have any idea why she chose to recant?”

“No,” Nicholas said. 

“You were a presence for her throughout the trial. You had full access to her, before she testified, and after.” Something was building in his voice, like the static in the air before a storm.

Nicholas swallowed. He needed a glass of water, but asking for one would look like delaying tactics. He cleared his throat. “She was frightened. I was just doing my job. Guiding - supporting a civilian.” Nicholas had spoken with her several times. Coached her, even. He blushed faintly.

“Making sure she stuck to her story?” The defence flapped his arms like bony wings. 

“No,” Nicholas said. He was sweating through his shirt. He couldn’t think of a good explanation, anything to set the jury at ease with him, wipe the disbelief off their faces. He was never good with juries. 

“Making sure she stuck to _your_ story?” the defence asked wickedly.

Nicholas shook his head again, trying to regain the ground collapsing under his feet. “No.”

The defence, knowing he had made his point - at least in those twelve true and impartial minds - had the bad sportsmanship to gloat. “You don’t look well, Officer Angel. No more questions, My Lord.”

No, that wasn’t all, that couldn’t be. Nicholas started to object, but he was cut off by the judge. 

“The witness is excused.”

Nicholas closed his eyes briefly, and stepped out of the box. The prosecutor didn’t acknowledge him. The Chief Inspector ignored him but the Sergeant and the Inspector, flanking him like loyal hounds, gave him twin looks of disappointment. The defence was droning on his next point with a triumphant uptick in his voice as Nicholas escaped through the courtroom doors. 

* * * 

Janine rang; Nicholas sent it to voicemail. The prosecutor’s aid and the Inspector rang, Nicholas turned off his mobile. He reviewed his testimony word by word, gesture by gesture, sweating on his pillow. He felt like he was suffocating. He got up and opened the window, and a rush of the busy London night came in. Nicholas closed his eyes and inhaled. Damp off the Thames, thinned exhaust, street noise, history. He should take that holiday he’d been promising for two years, and bring Danny down here, just the two of them. 

Three of them, Nicholas remembered. It was still foggy sometimes. He put his palm against his stomach. The white cotton of his vest was tight against his middle and instead of a washboard, it swelled gently to meet his hand. He suddenly needed to hear Danny’s voice. 

The room started to cool as Nicholas climbed back onto the wide and empty bed and fumbled in the dimness for his phone.

you awake? Nicholas texted. 

The phone rang almost instantly, and Nicholas picked up. “Danny?”

“Hey, Superman,” Danny said gently. “How’s Metropolis?”

Nicholas smiled despite himself. “Did I wake you?” he asked.

“‘Course not. Just watchin’ a movie.”

Nicholas heard the television click off and the remote drop onto the coffee table.

“It’s one in the morning,” Nicholas said disapprovingly. 

Danny took another sip of beer and wiped his smile. “What about you, you’re sleeping for two. Shouldn’t you be getting your…” - quick maths - “Sixteen hours?”

He grinned, anticipating the pedantic little explanation, but Nicholas went awfully quiet.

“What’s going on?” Danny asked. “How’d it go today?”

“I dropped the ball,” Nicholas admitted. 

“What happened?”

Nicholas was skeptical and hyper-critical, and he could turn it on himself, like doing surgery holding your own scalpel. “I wasn’t feeling great. I let him make a few easy points. He asked about Sandford, and … he really went after my record. I should have seen it coming. I didn’t have any good answers and…” Nicholas shrugged against the pillow. “I don’t think I did any lasting damage.” He hoped not, anyway. His cheeks got warm again.

A quiet pause from the other end of the line, while Danny thought about what to say. “It’s okay. You’ll be on form tomorrow.”

Nicholas didn’t say anything.

“And if it was right before lunch, the jury won’t remember a thing,” Danny said, all warm and good-humoured. “You told me that once.”

“Yeah,” Nicholas agreed hesitantly. He tried to concentrate on Danny’s voice. He could picture Danny in his t-shirt and shorts, his socked feet propped up on the table amid dishes and empty cans of lager. “Enjoying bachelor life?”

“Hate it,” Danny said honestly. He felt like crap after three days of nothing but pizza and beer. Tomorrow, he was gonna eat some carrots. “The bed’s cold when I get in, there’s nobody to remind me not to leave the milk out… How ‘bout you?”

“I miss you,” Nicholas said, in a suddenly raw voice.

Danny’s arm tightened around the cushion at his side. “Hey, Nicky. It’s all right. You’ll be home before you know it.”

Nicholas didn’t trust himself to speak.

Danny closed his eyes to focus everything on Nicholas, and the little miserable sniff that came down the phone. “It’s okay. Get the job done, come home.”

“Yeah.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“I miss you, too. Wish I was there.”

“You’d be bored out of your mind.”

“Nah,” Danny said, with a little flicker in his voice. “I’d be with you.”

“Hm.” Nicholas was quick on the uptake. “What would you do, if you were here?”

“Hmmm.” Danny’s voice dropped playfully. “I’d check out what you’re wearing.”

“A vest. Those blue pajamas. The ones with the missing button.” Nicolas smiled. Find that sexy, I dare you.

Danny was undeterred. “Anything underneath?”

“No...”

“So I’d have a good look - ‘cuz in those cotton pajamas, you can always see everything.”

“Really?” No more answering the door in these, then. … No wonder Doris always seemed to find an excuse to come round early on Sundays.

“I like being able to see you. It’s all mine, innit? I like to look. Touching yourself?” Danny asked. 

Nicholas had been thinking about Danny’s voice and the rest of him; of course he was. He froze guiltily. 

“Keep going,” Danny said. “I want to watch. What’re you doing?”

“Just… I’m…” Nicholas paused. “I’m playing with…” He was getting thicker as he stroked the little bulge in his pajama bottoms. 

“Open your button,” Danny said. 

Nicholas used his thumb to flick the button through its well-worn buttonhole. 

“Get my hand in. You’re hard already, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas said. He pushed his hand down into his pajamas and rubbed himself. He got harder as Danny’s voice dropped another notch. 

“Vest,” Danny said. “Pull up the hem, just a little.”

Nicholas pulled it up and dragged in a breath of anticipation. 

“Have to give you a kiss,” Danny said with a smile in his voice. “Right on the tum, ‘cause you’re so cute.”

Nicholas closed his eyes and brushed his fingertips, imagining the warmth was Danny’s lips on his bare skin. Danny liked to kiss the little trail of fine blonde hair, and he liked to make Nicholas laugh, tickling with his sandpapery stubble. 

“Let me help you with the rest of them clothes.” 

Nicholas closed his eyes and concentrated. Danny and him, naked together. Danny’s big shoulders, stomach, and thighs, all furry where Nicholas was fine-haired and almost smooth. When Danny pounced on him naked head to toe, brought him close or rolled him over and got on top, and Nicholas could feel all the heat and weight. He liked that best. Maybe even better than fucking. When Danny was taking his time.

“Get you on the bed so I can get my hands on ya,” Danny murmured. “Get my hand in there, play around a little.”

Nicholas loved that - Danny’s hand, bigger and fatter than his, the way Danny rolled his balls in his palm and didn’t even touch his cock. Just kneaded and played while the blood started coursing through Nicholas in surges, from his heart out to his fingertips and toes. A warm-up while Danny kissed him. Usually they were face to face, mixing sex with talk, plans, work sometimes - all the while Danny’s hand was inside his fly making gentle, playful love to him. Nicholas breathed with anticipation; memories of those moments were so strong that the echoes felt almost real, it was almost like Danny was here next to him. 

“You know what I love, Nicky? I love the way your knees get all tensed up when you’re really turned on.”

Nicholas had his knees off the mattress; he smiled to know how well Danny read him. “Your fault,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Danny said proudly. Danny was jutting out of his shorts, and stroking himself slowly. He had a thousand images of Nicholas laid out on the bed, with his thighs bunched and tense and his cock getting rosy, and the way the rest of Nicholas flushed. It always started on his cheekbones, and then crept across his creamy skin like a warm mist, that spread with Danny’s touches and kisses. Danny could suck his earlobe and feel Nicholas gasp, and see his ear and neck go the purest pink. He always brought the tide of want down Nicholas’s chest and belly with his mouth, like alchemy. “How about when I lick your tummy. Makes you crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas said in a whisper. He conjured up that wet, cold, tingly feeling. Danny’s strong point of tongue just on the rim of his navel, making his stomach muscles twitch and jump and shiver. His finger followed the play in his mind. 

“You know what else I love? The sound you make when I’m suckin’ your balls.”

Nicholas laughed. Blunt. That was Danny.

“I like knowin’ you like it. If I was there, I’d do ‘em right now.”

Nicholas nodded in agreement, pictured it: Danny’s dark hair bent over him, Danny’s thick cheek against the inside of one leg, then the other. The feel of his breath. Nicholas’s balls drew up and the pre-cum started to bead on his tip as he fixed on Danny’s smile - pure fucking love and joy and _pride_ \- just before he went down on Nicholas. Lick his lips, and start with the left one, a kiss, then working his mouth around it to nibble. Using his tongue to press Nicholas against his teeth. Enough pressure to make them tighten up and start to hum. Nicholas squeezed them and shuddered as a twitch zipped up his spine. 

“Pretty full,” Danny said, sounding ridiculously, playfully concerned. “You needed me. What do you want me to do?”

Nicholas exhaled in anticipation. “Suck me.”

Danny made a deep “hmm”, as if his mouth was already busy. “You’re perfect, Nicky. Always amazes me how hard you get, the way I can feel the blood pounding in there…”

Nicholas tipped his head back. Danny’s elbows bracing his knees apart. Looking down and getting another smile from Danny, who loved watching Nicholas unravel. He tugged himself, quickening his pulls, and his breathing followed. 

Danny kept a low litany of dirty talk. He could tell by the sounds Nicholas was making, the hitching of his breath, that he was getting close. “God, Nicky, I could do this all night. Get you on my tongue. Get my fingers inside, too. You like that.”

Having Danny’s thick fingers inside of him, in his pelvis where he was already burning. Something hard and big to tighten around, feel them fill his insides. The only thing better was Danny himself - all of him, every inch and every vein, the heavy bulb of Danny’s head. When Danny was inside him, and pulled up the dark covers around them and brought them to their own little universe, where nothing mattered except how he could smell Danny in the back of his throat and taste Danny’s tongue in his mouth, fight with Danny’s mouth while he bucked under him. He liked being helpless, pinned, in a dark so complete he couldn’t see anything but the loving fire in Danny’s eyes, feeling every beat of Danny’s heart, throbbing right through them both when Nicholas clenched tight around him. Nicholas rolled his hips with want, he wanted Danny _here_ , now. But his hand was working his cock and he was so hard he couldn’t hold out any more, he felt the churn and the drop in his stomach that was the point of no return, a delicious squeezing flood of heat as he came and spilled on his shirt and fist. 

Danny made soothing noises while Nicholas’s breathing got harsh and subsided. _Yeah, Nicky, just like that… good boy… love you…_

The ringing in his ears cleared away, and Nicholas felt quieted. Like drifting on a still lake under the stars. Eternity above and below. He still felt bad, but he felt good, too. Worn out. Sleepy, finally. Danny had drowned out the worries. ”Thanks.”

“What I’m here for.” Danny gave one last little aural lick, like a good-night kiss. “Soon as you get back, we’ll do it all for real. I’m not gonna let you out of bed.”

Nicholas smiled. “Looking forward to it.” He was drifting off.

“Night, Nicholas. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

He slept soundly until his alarm rang, and felt more clear-headed and energized than he had in weeks. It was like the weather had broken. Round two on the stand went better; he pressed home his point, anticipated the defence’s antics, he saw the jury start to come around. He liked the defence’s exasperation when he realized he had reached the end of his questioning and hadn’t made a dent. 

Nicholas drifted around the back halls, found an uncomfortable chair in the cafeteria, and wasted the rest of the day waiting to be called back on the stand. The call never came. He got back to the hotel as the sun was setting and televisions were springing to life in the high-rise across the road. Packing, cab, train… he wouldn’t be in Sandford til midnight at this rate. He hesitated, but everything in him wanted a shower and a soft pillow. He clicked through the train reservations on his ‘phone and changed them for tomorrow. He called Danny.

“I’m not gonna get the train tonight. I’m just - I’m beat.”

“Okay,” Danny said cheerfully. Nicholas knew he wasn’t smiling on the other end.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Get a good night’s sleep. What train?”

“Eleven o’clock. Should be at the station by one.”

“I’ll be there,” Danny promised. 

“I had to let another notch on my belt today.” Nicholas touched the soft fleecey jumper and the strap of his belt. He hoped his stab vest still fit when he got back. His trousers were all starting to feel a very tight squeeze. 

Danny made a distant sound. “I miss you, Nicholas.”

Nicholas tucked the phone close against his shoulder. “I miss you, too. See you tomorrow.”


End file.
